


All You Ever Wanted

by Anonymous



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Biting, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Bretons (Elder Scrolls), Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Deviates From Canon, Domestic Fluff, Dreams, Drunk Dancing, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Hair-pulling, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, Light BDSM, Loss of Trust, Memories, Mentor/Protégé, Minor Character Death, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Nords (Elder Scrolls), Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Romance, Running Away, Sexual Content, Smut, Swearing, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Thieves Guild, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, fluff if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 80,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: She's not the Dragonborn. She's not powerful. She's not special.She's just a young woman who's a hell of a pickpocket trying to find her place in the world.What she finds is a guild that becomes her family and a Guildmaster that drives her crazy in her mind and her heart.
Relationships: Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls) & Original Female Characters, Mercer Frey/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 47
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Prologue

Riften.

It was Marianne's first stop in Skyrim. Eventually, she hoped to make her way north to the college in Winterhold and study there.

But she knew, they didn't accept everyone. She would have to practice her magic by herself and get it to an acceptable level before the college would consider taking her in. When she hopped off the cart as it came to a stop outside the city's gates, she was approached by the guard manning the gate about a bullshit tax she had to pay for the privilege of entering the city.

She paid the man and no sooner had he turned around to unlock the gate for her, did she roll her eyes while her nimble fingers plucked his coin purse right off his belt. She smiled sweetly when he turned back to face her and quickly made her way inside the walled city, now a hundred gold richer. It was a bold move, picking a guard's pocket. But Marianne was no novice.

Her thieving had started when she was a child at the orphanage in Leyawiin, looking to get extra food. The old bitch that ran the place was less than cordial to any of the children that weren't Nords and more often than not, Marianne was forced to go hungry. That kind of blatant racism was rare in Cyrodiil, but it still existed. Marianne was a Breton. With waist length brown, wavy hair and a heart shaped face. Her ears had an ever so slight point to them as some Bretons did. Her left ear sported a gold ring that was pierced near the tip of the point. A parting gift of her Khajiit bunkmate at the orphanage.

Now inside the city's gates, she made her way through the cobblestone streets. She'd poured the gold coins she'd gotten from the guard's coin purse into her own before ditching the now empty bag while she walked. Rule number one is to ditch the evidence as soon as possible. With her own coin purse now significantly heavier, she made her way to the market square to hopefully find some new spell books and a hot meal. There were a bunch of stalls in the market square but Marianne didn't find any with spell books. It was all jewelry and weapons and armour. None of which Marianne was looking for. She picked a few pockets and was just reaching for another when a man called out to her.

"Excuse me, lass," he called out, his voice carrying over the commotion of the bustling marketplace and when she realized he was watching her, she quickly adjusted her clothes to hide the fact that she was about to snatch the unsuspecting patrons coin purse. She strolled over to his potion stand with a friendly smile on her face.   
"Hello. Selling potions?" she asked and his face lit up. He was a Nord, with shoulder length red hair and a wide jaw covered in a thick auburn stubble. He was a lot taller than her. Marianne was pretty short even by Breton standards. His clothes were nicer than hers too. He looked like a rich man and his coin purse was bulging with coin. Marianne was partial to her own clothes though. She wore comfortable pants that fit snugly to her skin and a dark blue tunic with a vest that cinched at the waist.

"Indeed, lass. Indeed. What I have here is a rare gem. A genuine Falmer blood elixir," he said whilst hold up a large red potion bottle and a deep crease appeared between Marianne's brow. 

"What in oblivion is a Falmer?" she asked him and he looked surprised before he quickly recovered. 

"The Falmer were an ancient, powerful race of elves."

"How did you get their blood?" she asked him and he smiled widely, though whether it was at her question or sudden look of disgust, she couldn't tell. 

"Can't give away my secrets lass." He was spewing bullshit, she realized. He was like her, a scammer. But it was no matter, her small, delicate hand had already retrieved his own coin purse from his belt. For someone that scammed people out of their gold all day, he sure didn't guard his own very well. 

"Well okay. I'll take one," she said innocently and proceeded to buy a fake potion from the man with his own gold.

"Excellent, lass. You wont regret it," he cooed and she smiled, exchanging some of his own gold for the potion that she was sure was probably just a bit of crushed nirnroot and water. Maybe he'd thrown in a little cannis root for flavoring. She didn't care. It wasn't like she was going to actually drink it. She ditched it on a random crate she passed on her way to the inn. She was positively starving and couldn't wait for a hot meal and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow she would look for the general goods store and try to locate a couple of spell books.

With the sun already falling behind the city's walls and the dark of night quickly approaching, she made her way inside the inn and ordered a mug of wine and a plate of stew and bread. The inn was bustling with patrons, most of them Nords. Marianne took her meal in the quietest corner she could find. She didn't know this town or it's people and didn't particularly want to mingle. Coming to Skyrim was turning out to be a great idea. Once she'd come of age and was thrown out of the orphanage, she spent the last few years scamming her way from Leyawiin to Bruma and that's when she finally decided to make something of herself besides a thief. Marianne's father was an honest man before he was killed by bandits while on a hunting trip. She wanted to make him proud. She wanted to be someone that he'd be proud to call his daughter.

She brought a spoonful of hot stew to her lips just as the empty seat across from her at her small table became occupied by the man she bought the fake potion from. He made himself comfortable, placing an open bottle of ale in front of himself on the table top before bringing his hands together. He laced his fingers together and gave her an amused look. "So this is what you spent my gold on?" he said, tilting his head towards her dinner. He was dressed much differently than she remembered. He ditched his fine clothes in favor of a plain white tunic and dark blue leather pants. But she knew it was him by his smooth accent and deep red hair. Marianne hadn't moved an inch since he sat down but she realized he was waiting for an answer so she cleared her throat and took a drink of her wine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she told him, feigning innocence. Rule number two, never admit to anything. 

He smiled. "Of course the first thing you bought was one of my own potions," he said, pausing to shake his head, "I have to admit, lass. I've never been successfully pickpocketed before. You're good. I'll give you that."

"I'm sorry sir. I think you have me confused with someone else," she told him and his smile widened. 

"Of course. While I admit that I am impressed. I've also come to tell you that your thieving will not be tolerated in Riften. This city belongs to the thieves guild and we have a strict policy against allowing rogues to operate within city walls." 

She didn't say anything. She would never admit to taking something. Admitting guilt was never a good way to go. She didn't know anything about a thieves guild anyway. He could be spewing more bullshit to try and intimidate her for all she knew. 

He took a drink of his ale, "I would officially extend an invitation for you to come and see what we're all about. I think you would do well in our organization. If that interests you, come to the ratway beneath the city. If not, I would keep your hands to yourself to ensure they stay attached to your wrists." With that said, he finished his ale and set the empty bottle on the table before he got up. Marianne watched him as he crossed the busy inn easily slipping between patrons. His own hands were quick as he relieved two patrons of their purses on his way out.

'What a jerk.' she thought as she rubbed at her wrists absentmindedly. She was definitely not taking him up on his offer. It was probably just a ploy to get her alone so he could run her through without witnesses. Marianne was no fighter. The dagger on her belt was for emergencies only. She stuck to the cities for that very reason. She had a bit of magic but after years of her abilities being oppressed, it was difficult to control. So, no. She would not be trying to meet the strange man that threatened to cut off her hands. Beneath the city, or otherwise.

Instead, she finished her meal and paid for a room. After a hot bath she climbed under the warm furs and with the exhaustion of her journey catching up to her, she quickly fell asleep.


	2. Taking A Chance

When Marianne woke, it was late. Mid-day at least. She could tell by the bright light that poured in from the window. It was early summer and she could tell from where she lay that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. She smiled at that and threw the furs off, eager to start her day. Marianne wasn't a huge fan of the cold. She was partial to the beautiful weather Leyawiin offered. It was a city by a lake, much like Riften itself. Though, Riften was much nicer than what she'd gathered from the rumors. Most folk in Cyrodiil painted Skyrim as a snowy wasteland full of racists.

So far, it was anything but. Aside from the Nord man that threatened to cut off her hands, it generally seemed like a nice place and was already bringing back good memories. Before the orphanage, Marianne lived with her father on a small farm just off the lake outside the city's walls. Of course, the sky dumped rain down on Leyawiin more often than not, but Marianne didn't mind. The rain had a kind of peacefulness about it.

The first thing she did, after dressing and exiting the inn was set out in search of spell books. After asking around she found a little shop called the Pawned Prawn. Marianne thought it was a strange name for a general goods store, but what did she know? She herself was no merchant. Maybe the name drummed up more business for the owner? With a shrug, she pushed the door open and strolled up to the counter where another customer was already there, arguing with the shopkeeper.

"Welcome to the Pawned Prawn," he said, immediately turning his attention away from the tall man in front of her. Her eyes went to the man and she realized it was the same man that interrupted her dinner the night before. His emerald green eyes recognized her right away and she rolled her eyes at the sight of him. It seemed to amuse him but she didn't care. Marianne was not amused. Not by him or his threats. She might not be a fighter, but she was as stubborn as they come.

She turned her attention to the shop keeper that was patiently waiting and she approached the counter. He then gave her a funny look when she inquired about spell books. "You could try Whiterun," he told her and her face fell. Whiterun was leagues away from the Rift.

"Oh, don't touch that. It's priceless!" the shopkeeper snapped at the other man and Marianne turned to see him eyeing a particularly large urn by the window. Which, is a weird spot to keep an urn and Marianne hoped that there wasn't actually a dead person inside of it. She turned back to the shopkeeper and quickly thanked him before she exited the small shop.

After asking around and coming up empty handed she made her way back to the inn. She was sitting at a table outside the inn, taking bites from a stale piece of bread she bought and examining her worn map of Skyrim in front of her. She picked it from a travelers pocket back in Bruma and she was glad she did since it seemed like she would be making her way deeper into the province sooner than she planned.

Her delicate fingers traced the different routes between the Rift and Whiterun hold. After counting her gold she realized she had just over three hundred. More than she expected and definitely enough to pay for passage on a cart to the next hold over, but she'd also have to pay for food and lodging and she still needed to buy the books once she found them. Spell books weren't cheap. And if they were this hard to come by, the chance to steal them was slim at best. She sighed. Setting her bread down on her map, she rest her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands.

"So, what's your name?" a velvety smooth, familiar voice asked and Marianne's head snapped up at the sound. The red haired man she was annoyingly familiar with was leaning against one of the support posts of the inn's balcony. She scowled at the sight of him and began packing her things, quickly shoving them into her small backpack. 

"None of your business," she said flatly. With her bag packed, she donned her backpack and grabbed her bread. She took two steps before the tall Nord stood in her path.

"Alright, lass. I think we got off on the wrong foot," he said, showing her his palms so she would know he was no threat to her. Which under other circumstances, Marianne would have found funny since he threatened to cut off her hands the night before. 

She gave him an unimpressed look. "You don't say?" she drawled sarcastically, "Well you will be happy to know, I will be out of your hair soon enough." she informed him before stepping around his large frame. Her brow creased when he blocked her path a second time, bringing him close to her. Close enough that she had to crane her neck to meet his green eyes.

"Have you given any thought to my offer?" he asked her and she shook her head. 

"I'm not interested," she said before walking around him. She rounded the corner of the inn and took a bite of her bread. It didn't taste the best but it was cheap and would fill her stomach. She needed to save as much gold as she could.

The tall Nord quickly caught up to her as she lazily walked around the inn. It was in the shadowed alley beside the inn that she heard his approach and quickly turned around, grabbing her dagger with her dominant hand. The dagger scraped against it's sheath crudely in her haste. "Easy, lass. I just want to talk," he assured her, showing his palms once again. A slight smirk danced across his face, "besides, your stance is all wrong." 

Marianne glared at him, the corner of her lips twitching in her agitation. "My blade will cut through your flesh just the same, I'm sure," she told him.

He exhaled a laugh, "It has to get close enough to my skin to actually cut it first."

"What do you want? Besides to cut off my hands?" she asked him, not bothering to hide her irritation with him. 

He smiled, "As I said before, I think our organization could use you. You're quick with your hands."

"You mean your guild?" she asked, a firm crease planted in her brow. 

He nodded, "The thieves guild." 

He was full of it. He had to be. Surely if there was such a guild Marianne would have heard about it long before now. It was hard to imagine that such a thing would be exclusive to just Skyrim.

"That doesn't sound like a real guild," she told him and he smirked. 

"What if I told you I have a few old spell books you're welcome to have. Just come down and see what we're all about. If you're not interested after that, you can go on your way. I wont stop you again and the books will be yours regardless."

Marianne wasn't convinced. Though she badly wanted the books, if he actually had them, she wasn't quick to trust anything this scammer told her. "You want to give them to me, for free?" That didn't seem right, people didn't just give stuff away for free.

"Not free. I fully plan on convincing you to join the guild," he said. That's when she heard it, the familiar jingle of a guard's sheath against his chainmail as he came into view behind the red haired man. She quickly sheathed her dagger and changed her stance to one as nonchalant as she could muster, leaning a hand on a nearby crate and crossing her ankles as he patrolled the shadowed alley. The guard spared a quick glance at the man, then his eyes briefly met her blue ones and she took a bite of her stale bread and gave him a smile as she chewed.

Marianne didn't know how those guards walked around all day wearing all that heavy armour. She watched one dress once, through no fault of her own. She was sneaking out of an inn in the Imperial City to avoid paying her overdue bill and her balcony happened to be shared with the next room over. It was a hired guard, but a guard nonetheless. Anyway, he'd just started dressing and with nothing better to do, Marianne watched the process through his slightly ajar door. You would never know by looking at their armour from the outside, but some of those guards were pretty attractive under all those layers of chainmail and tunics. The one she'd seen had been anyway. "No lollygagging," the guard called to the both of them as he passed.

Her eyes followed him as he continued on his way. When he rounded the corner she turned back to the red haired man who was now much closer to her and casually holding up her own bag of gold. The loop was wrapped around his index finger and he was fixing her with a wide, victorious grin. He'd taken it right off her own belt when she wasn't looking. "Hey! That's mine!" she nearly yelled, quickly grabbing for it only for the man to pull his hand away before her fingers could reach it. 

"tsk. tsk." he said, dangling the bag of gold just out of reach. She glared at him, which only seemed to amuse him more. "I'll give it back to you. But, only if you agree to come with me." 

She tossed her stale bread at his broad, Nordic chest. It bounced off the green tunic he wore and hit the ground in a muted thud. "You. Are. Annoying." she said, enunciating each word separately only for his grin to widen into a genuine smile. 

"So...?" he asked, dangling her gold just out of reach. 

She sighed, "Fine. I'll come with you." 

At her admittance, he immediately relinquished her bag to her with a toss. "Excellent. Follow me," he said and she caught her bag of gold and stuffed it into her shirt, between her breasts. She would not let it be taken again, especially if she was about to walk into a supposed guild full of other thieves. Though, she was seriously doubting the validity of this man's claims.

With her gold safely tucked away, she reached for her bread that had hit the ground a moment ago. She picked it up and noticed just a little bit of dirt on it and brushed it off. Marianne was not above eating food off the ground. Food was food as far as she was concerned. She took a bite and made to follow the tall Nord. After she caught up to him, she walked beside him as he led her through the back streets. She tried to make a mental note of the turns they were making in case she needed to make a hasty retreat.

"So, what's your name?" the man asked while she chewed her bread. 

"You first," she said to him around a mouthful of food. 

He smirked down at her, "Brynjolf." 

"Is that your real name? Or did you just make that up?" she asked him while they crossed the cobblestone path that led to the city's front gate between alleys. 

He laughed, a deep and throaty laugh. "It's my real name, lass," he assured her and she shrugged. It sounded made up to her.

"My name's Marianne, but just Mary is fine," she told him. The alley ended and now they were walking through ankle deep grass. Marianne kept her eyes peeled for snakes. It was that time of year. All the insects and tiny predators had come out of their winter hiding. Her worn leather boots were tall enough to provide immediate protection but she didn't want to be ignorant of lingering dangers. If she did happen to get bitten by something poisonous, that would mean more gold spent on a potion. The goal here was to save gold, not spend it.

"I've never seen you before Mary. Are you new to Skyrim, or just Riften?" the tall Nord asked her when a graveyard came into view. 

"New to Skyrim. Just got off the cart yesterday. I was in Bruma for a few months, Chorral just before that." She told him as she reluctantly followed him into the graveyard. They passed several gravestones before he suddenly turned, entering a large, stone mausoleum. Marianne made a face, but followed him anyway.

"You travel a lot," he said. It wasn't a question. Just an observation. 

She smirked. "Well, I don't have anything else to do," she told him with a shrug. Plus, there were only so many pockets she could dip her hand into in one place before she had to move on. With her stale bread now finished, she slapped her hands together a few times to dispel the lingering crumbs. The Nord, who she now knew to be Brynjolf came to a stop in front of a large sarcophagus. One of his fingers pressed a button that was hidden just under the edge of the lid and Marianne watched as the sarcophagus slid back, revealing a previously hidden tunnel. It occured to her then that he intended for them to enter the revealed tunnel and her brow creased. 

"You ready to meet the guild?" he asked her, clearly amused by the reluctant expression she wore. 

"You want me to go... down there?" she asked him, pointing one of her index fingers at the sewer grate at the bottom of the cobblestone steps that covered who knows what. 

"Aye," he said, leading the way. He walked down the steps and pulled the sewer grate back before he quickly and with more grace than Marianne expected, descended the first few steps of what she assumed was a ladder. "Unless you're too scared."

"I am not scared," Marianne said defiantly, earning a smirk from the Nord. 

"Yeah?" he asked, giving her a look that told her he wasn't buying what she was selling, "Prove it, Mary." 

With that said, he continued descending the ladder and was quickly out of sight, leaving Marianne standing there at the entrance of the open tunnel. With a quick look behind her to make sure she wasn't seen, she reluctantly followed the Nord, taking a deep breath before she herself descended the ladder into the darkness below.


	3. Meeting The Guildmaster

Marianne prayed to whichever gods that may exist that there wasn't something sketchy waiting for her at the bottom of the ladder. Sketchier than a group of underground thieves, that is. But who was she kidding? The gods seemed content to ignore her pleas so far. Either she offended them somehow and was still paying the price or they weren't real. Marianne assumed the latter.

When her feet touched solid ground again, she turned around and squinted into the dim light being put off by two nearby wall sconces. Brynjolf was there, casually leaning against the wall beside a sconce. Her eyes adjusted quickly enough and Brynjolf tilted his head in the direction of the opening of the tunnel. She followed him out of the short tunnel and was greeted by a massive space. Several sconces lined the walls, illuminating the underground area. A low whistle escaped her at the sight and Brynjolf exhaled a laugh beside her as it echoed throughout the large chamber. One of the far walls housed rows of beds. Which was not something she'd been expecting. If a bed came with the job, she was already well on her way to considering it. 

The opposite wall housed two large desks and a row of bookshelves. There was also three other doors that she could see. Possible exits she assumed. A large table brimming with food was just to her right. Her stomach growled at the sight of the massive spread. Finally, in the center of it all was a large cistern. Being a sewer, she expected it to smell but no smell reached her, bad or otherwise. "Shall we?" Brynjolf said before tilting his head toward the desks and bookshelves. All too eager to see if he'd been truthful about the promised spell books, she followed him, her boots hitting the slightly damp cobblestone ground in a muted slapping sound. Another thing she hadn't been expecting was the moistness of the area, but she could get used to that. She did spend a good eighteen years in Leyawiin and Riften was all too similar. 

The bookshelves were massive, housing dozens of books and scrolls on every subject Marianne could think of. It took Brynjolf just a moment to locate a few dusty old spell books. He approached her with three, which she quickly accepted and looked over. They were old, but that was okay. She was sure the information hadn't changed much over the years. One was on controlling fire, something she desperately needed help with. The second one was on healing both herself and others. Finally, the last one was from the school of Alteration. Creating and controlling mage-lights. She looked up from her newly adopted books to beam at the red haired man. "So what's the job?" She asked him and he returned her smile.

He walked her around the underground hideout and explained how things worked. Brynjolf pointed out an empty bed that would be hers if she chose to join. She would have her own bed. She couldn't believe it. She didn't even have her own bed at the orphanage. She had to share the straw mattress with Shani, her Khajiit bunkmate. There was also a bedside table and a trunk at the foot of the bed that she could use to house her belongings. Marianne pointed out the fact that the trunk did not have a lock on it and Brynjolf explained that guild members were not permitted to steal from each other. After showing her where she could lay her head, he brought her into the training room. The guild had a lot to offer Marianne. A place to sleep and practice her magic and weapons skills in exchange for doing something she was already good at seemed too good to be true. 

A small part of her mind was against the entire idea. Against anything that wasn't honest work. But as much as Marianne wanted to make her father proud, she wasn't there yet. She didn't have any special skills. The only thing she'd ever been good at was stealing. But if she could hold out long enough to get better with her magic, she could hopefully get accepted into the college. If that happened, she'd be well on her way to becoming a respected mage. That would surely make her father proud. 

They returned to the main hall and Marianne noticed that the space was now occupied by a Bosmer sitting on the bed next to the one that would be hers. His attention was trained on the bow in his lap. One of his hands held a rag and he looked to be cleaning the bow, but the light was dim and Marianne wasn't entirely sure. Another man was leaning over one of the large desks that sat in front of the row of bookshelves. "Ah, Mercer is back," Brynjolf said as he came to a sudden stop. "So, what do you think Mary?" he asked her. She chewed her bottom lip while she considered his offered employment. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, she decided. A steady stream of gold and a place to live that didn't cost ten gold pieces a day was a literal steal. 

She gave the red haired man a smile. "I'm in," she told him and a wide smile spread across his own face. 

"Excellent." he said, "Now let's go meet your boss." He gestured to the man at the desk and a deep crease appeared in her brow. 

"I thought you would be my boss," she said and he smirked. 

"I am, but Mercer is my boss. He's the Guildmaster," he explained while they crossed the cobblestone ground to the large desk. She held the books Brynjolf had given her against her side as they crossed the large area. When they were close enough so that Marianne could see clearly, she noticed the man was a Breton. Shorter than the Nord beside her but still taller than Marianne by a good six inches or so. He was older, middle aged like Brynjolf and Marianne would be lying if she said that she didn't find him attractive. 

He had shoulder length, brown tresses and a wide jaw covered in a layer of brown stubble. He looked up at their approach and Marianne could see that his eyes were a light blue color. "Thought you'd be in the market still, Brynjolf. It's early," he said to the red haired man who smirked back at him. 

Brynjolf placed one of his large hands on Marianne's shoulder. "I was showing Mary here the ins and outs of the place. This is the one I was telling you about. She's in," he said before turning his attention back to her. "Mary, this is Mercer. The Guildmaster."

She tore her gaze from Brynjolf and locked eyes with Mercer. He was looking her over with an arch in his brow before he scoffed. "This is your recruit?" he said to the other man, the surprise in his tone nearly palpable. "If she wants to make gold, you should have pointed her in the direction of the bunkhouse. She'd do well under Haelga's instruction I'm sure." he said before turning his attention back to the large book in front of him. The pages were lined with rows of numbers that made Marianne dizzy to look at upside down in the dim candlelight. 

She jabbed an elbow into the side of the tall Nord beside her. "What's a bunkhouse?" she asked him quietly and he gave her a weird look. 

"Just forget about it," he said before turning his attention back to the Breton across from them. "She says she's in." the Nord insisted to which the other man looked up with a sigh. 

"Fine Brynjolf, I trust your judgement. But if you're bringing her in, you're gonna keep her in line," he said before meeting Marianne's dark blue eyes with his own light blue ones. "Welcome to the thieves guild," he said flatly before turning his attention back to his book. 

After the very brief and weird introduction, Brynjolf led her out of the cistern through one of the doors. At the end of a short hallway, Marianne was surprised to lay her eyes upon an underground bar. From what Marianne could see, everyone seemed to be sporting the same shade of dark blue leather. Some in pants and jackets while others sported regular tunics but almost everyone that she could see wore the same boots. Brynjolf led her over to a bench where a redguard woman was sitting. One of her hands was occupied by a small journal looking book while the other held a feather pen. 

Brynjolf introduced them. Tonilia, she learned was the name of the woman who would apparently be responsible for bringing her a brand new set of leather armour. Marianne smiled when she learned about the latest perk for joining the band of underground thieves. Once her measurements were taken, Brynjolf escorted her over to a small table where a middle aged Breton who's dark hair was shaved close to his scalp, was sitting with an open bottle of ale in front of him. Marianne was the youngest person around as far as she could see. There was a woman of mixed blood next to the Breton who was younger, but she still looked to have a few years on Marianne's twenty three winters. The Breton man was examining a ring, holding it up to the candle light for a better look when the pair approached. 

"Delvin," Brynjolf addressed the man who looked over at the sound of his name being called. 

"What'd ya need Bryn?" he asked. 

"This is my new recruit, Mary," he said to the man who's eyes were already looking her over. 

"So you're the one that pinched Brynjolf's purse?" he asked and Marianne shrugged. Even now, after touring the underground guild, she wouldn't admit to taking anything. He seemed amused by her response or lack thereof. "Your hands are small," he noted, "Is fishing your specialty?" M/p>

Marianne's brow creased at the question. "Fishing?" she asked with a shake of her head. 

"It is," Brynjolf answered for her. "I watched her in the market square," he told the Breton who shot him a wicked smirk. 

"Oi, Not close enough, or you wouldn't be a hundred gold lighter right now," he teased, earning a throaty laugh from the Nord. 

"Fair enough," he said before turning his attention back to Marianne, "Alright Mary, this is Delvin Mallory. You can see him for work whenever you're available. He handles the pickpocketing jobs so you two will be seeing a lot of each other." 

She smiled at that before turning her attention toward the older Breton. "I'm available," she said immediately, hoping to get started as soon as possible.

The man smirked at her eagerness. "Alright, Mary was it?" he asked and she nodded, "Alright, Mary I've got two jobs in Whiterun. Let me..." He trailed off as he started digging into his leather jacket's pockets. 

Marianne shot him a confused look even though he couldn't see. "I have to travel?" she asked him and he met her eyes before he exhaled a laugh. 

"Of course you have to travel. Can't bleed Riften dry.." he said with a shake of his head and went back to searching for who knows what in his clothes. 

A moment later he retrieved two small pieces of paper and after unfolding them both to verify the contents he slid them across the table top towards Marianne. "These are easy. A bracelet and a broach. If you pinched Brynjolf's purse, you should be able to get these no problem." She nodded and scooped up the papers while one of her arms still clutched her new-to-her books against her chest. Once again she was glad she'd taken the map of Skyrim when she did, since it sounded like she would be traveling a lot for work. But at least she'd be working. On the other hand, she seriously doubted that the guild was footing the bill for the carriage ride and lodging in Whiterun hold. That would come straight out of her profits. 

"You want to have a seat?" the man asked, tearing her out of her thoughts and she looked up from the small papers she held to see his brown eyes looking back at her. 

"Um, sure," she responded before taking the empty seat in front of her. A quick look around told her that Brynjolf had already abandoned her, he stood at the bar, no doubt ordering himself a drink. A few curious eyes lingered on Marianne and she tried her best to not let it get to her. Telling herself that their curiosity was to be expected, she was new. Naturally, they would be curious about her.

"So, where did you come from?" the woman beside Delvin asked her, earning her attention. 

"Cyrodiil," She told her. 

"Where at in Cyrodiil?" Delvin asked and Marianne met his brown eyes and she could see his genuine curiosity there. 

"Well, I was born in Leyawiin if that's what you mean. But after I left the orphanage I bounced around a bit. I was in Bruma for a few months before I came to Skyrim. There's a lot of rich people there. Nice shops too," she said and the man smirked. 

"I've been to Bruma," he told her. "Conned a man out of his entire carriage an brought it back to Riften," he said and Marianne's brow shot up in surprise. 

"Did you really?" she asked, thoroughly impressed with his story. 

He smirked, clearly pleased with her reaction. "Sure did," he said proudly.

"Don't get him started," the woman beside him said with a roll of her eyes, "It wasn't that impressive." She crossed her arms against her chest and Delvin turned to face her with an unimpressed look. 

"Mary, I'd like you to meet my niece, Sapphire, who is perpetually unimpressed by everything." He drawled, earning a smirk from the other woman.

"It's not my fault you've been coasting on that same story for a year now. He doesn't get out often." The latter part of her statement was directed at Marianne who pressed her lips into a firm line to keep from smiling at the man's expense. It was her first day and she didn't want to rub anyone the wrong way. Especially not the man who would be giving her jobs to do. 

"Yeah, yeah." the man drawled before turning back to Marianne. "You can set those down, you know. No one's gonna take em from ya." He said, nodding toward the books that Marianne was still holding onto rather tightly. Reluctantly, she set them on the table top in front of herself, one of her hands lingering on top of the stack. She just got her hands on them. Losing them now would be a major blow. Delvin seemed amused by her behavior. His eyes zeroed in on the emblem of alteration on the front of the top book. "Spell books?" 

Marianne nodded. "Brynjolf gave them to me, for coming down here." She told him and he scoffed. "Surely he could have given you a better sign on bonus than a couple of dusty books."

"Those, were what she wanted," Brynjolf cut in, suddenly appearing at the table beside Marianne. He placed a mug of what she assumed to be wine in front of her and her free hand immediately grabbed it and brought it to her lips. It was wine, she discovered when the notes of spice hit her tongue. "Besides, you're also forgetting that she made off with a hundred of my gold." 

With a free drink in her hands, Brynjolf said his goodbye, leaving her at the table with Delvin and Sapphire. She was eager to get started on the jobs she'd been given but she didn't want to be rude so she stayed with them and they got to know each other. Sapphire was from Morrowind and Delvin had always lived in Riften. 

It was all going well until Marianne remembered what Mercer had said and her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She inquired to her new Breton boss as to what the bunkhouse actually was only to receive an odd look in return. 

"Why in oblivion would you bring that up?" he asked. 

Marianne shrugged. "Mercer said I should work there instead," she told him but the look Delvin was giving her was not giving her a good feeling. 

"Well he's not wrong," A man said from somewhere behind her. She turned in her chair and locked eyes with a brown haired Nord who was smirking at her from behind his own bottle of ale. 

"Can it Thrynn," Sapphire snapped at him. "That's the whorehouse," she said when Marianne turned back to the table, noting the look of irritation the woman was now sporting on her face. Marianne's own mouth fell open in humiliation before she quickly abandoned her seat at the table, scooping up her books as she did so. Delvin called after her but she ignored him and the other eyes that followed her as she quickly made her way out of the underground bar.

She entered the cistern, her feet angrily hitting the damp cobblestone ground as she marched toward the pair of desks that were occupied. Brynjolf heard her approach and looked up, instantly confused by the expression she wore on her face. Marianne was pissed, more so than she'd been in a long time. 

"Mary?" He called as she passed his desk but she ignored him. She marched right over to the other desk where that Breton bastard was still pouring his attention onto the large ledger in front of him. Instantly curious about who was noisily approaching, Mercer looked up from his numbers book only for the palm of Marianne's hand to connect with his cheek in a harsh slap. 

"I am not a whore!" she yelled at the man, who now wore a look of genuine surprise on his face. Her voice echoed in the chamber and a small part of her mind wondered if they'd heard her yelling in the bar. She immediately turned her attention to the red haired man who was rounding his desk. "And you can forget about me working here!" she snapped before turning on her heel and marching towards the ladder. She was leaving, screw Brynjolf, screw Mercer. If that's how they treated people, she wanted no part of it. 

"Mary, wait!" Brynjolf called but she ignored him. 

Once she reached the short tunnel illuminated by the sconce on either side, she kept going til the ladder came into view. It took a bit of balancing to hold onto her books while she ascended the ladder but she managed just fine. At the top of the ladder was the familiar open space beneath the sarcophagus. There was a pull chain on the wall and Marianne assumed that was her way out. She pulled the chain and sure enough, the sarcophagus slid back and she quickly ascended the few steps and left the mausoleum. She stalked out of the graveyard while the sun was just dipping behind the city's walls. 

Apparently she'd be spending another night at the inn.


	4. Second Chance

Marianne was muttering curses under her breath the entire time she soaked in the hot bath water. 

To say she was pissed was an understatement. It was bad enough Brynjolf had threatened to cut off her hands, but then Mercer went and called her a whore. The audacity of that man was astounding. She'd been through much in her short life, but not once did she ever consider peddling her flesh. And then to top it all off, there was the humiliation she felt at having the entire guild know about what Mercer had said. With her irritation still at it's height, the palm of her hand came down on the surface of the steaming water in a harsh slap. Water sloshed from the tub, splashing over the edge from the sudden disruption and she wished she could slap him all over again. 

She soaked in the hot water til her fingers and toes pruned. Honestly, she could have stayed in longer but she knew there were other patrons waiting to use the bath water and she'd taken more than her fair share of time soaking. Reluctantly, she left the still warm water and dried off. She pulled on her leather pants and a dark green tunic she'd taken off a merchants stall in the Imperial City when his attention was otherwise occupied. She ran a towel through her still wet hair on the way back to her room. Once inside, she shut the door only to turn around and be startled to see Brynjolf casually leaning against the open window. His ankles were crossed and he looked like he didn't have a care in the world. She frowned.

Immediately, she tossed the towel she dried her hair with onto the small table beside the door and crossed her arms against her chest at the sight of him. "What do you want?" she asked, her irritation making itself known with the rudeness of her tone and a harsh glare in her eyes. 

He sighed, "Listen, I know you're upset-"

"Upset doesn't begin to cover it, Brynjolf. He called me a whore," she snapped and one of Brynjolf's hands found his red hair out of frustration. 

"He didn't... mean it as an insult." He spoke through a cringe, like he couldn't find a better way to word what he was trying to say. 

But that wasn't good enough for Marianne and it earned him another glare, "How else could he have meant it, Brynjolf?!" 

He sighed again, "Look.. I'm not here to try and dig Mercer out of his hole. I'm here because I want you in the guild. Besides, we both know there's a reason why you travel so much. It's hard for rogues, Mary. They don't last long on their own." 

"What do you know about it?!" she snapped, "You don't know anything about me!" 

Brynjolf exhaled a laugh which only earned him another dirty look. "You know, you're a lot more feisty than I originally anticipated," he said and Marianne's hands found her hips and she gave him a rather unimpressed look. She was not amused. "Anyways, you're not the only orphan in the world," he said and she rolled her eyes. Of course she wasn't, she knew a whole house full of them at one time.

"Both of my parents died after my eighth winter," he told her and she frowned, "I was on my own for three years when a member of the guild found me."

"I've been on my own for five!" she said, holding her dominant hand up with each of her fingers and thumb spread to make her point. 

He smiled, "That's impressive, Mary. Especially with your poor weapon skills." His tone was teasing but Mary was far from amused. He had no idea the things she had to endure before and after she left the orphanage. He didn't know anything. 

"You really are annoying." she said, dropping her arms and earning a smirk from the Nord. She crossed the small room to the bed where her backpack lay. Sitting on the bed, she crossed her legs and dug into her backpack. She retrieved her brush and began running it through her still damp locks before she spoke again. "I don't like him," she said to the Nord, she didn't have to explain who she was talking about. Brynjolf would know. 

"I'm not asking you to like him, lass. Hells, I'm not even asking you to talk to him." 

That had her attention and she met his eyes with a deep crease in her brow. "Isn't he the boss?" she asked. 

He smirked. "Technically, but you'll be getting your jobs from Delvin. At most, you'll see him in passing. No conversation required," he assured her. 

She wasn't convinced. "I don't know," she said quietly, turning her brush over in her hands. The benefits of the job flashed in her mind, tempting her. Having her own bed, one that didn't cost ten gold pieces a day was a hell of a perk. Not to mention it beat sleeping under bridges and inside stables. Of course, she hadn't slept in a stable since that one time she was nearly arrested for it. Those guards in Cyrodiil don't play around. The one that found her in the stables chased her all the way into the forest outside Cheydinhal. She couldn't believe it at the time. Marianne was fast, but that guard was relentless and chased her anyways, despite the layers of tunics and chainmail he wore. 

"We both know you can't last forever on your own," Brynjolf said, snapping her out of her thoughts and Marianne tossed her brush at her backpack out of irritation. 

"Why do you care?" she asked him and he sighed. 

"Honestly?... The former Guildmaster is the one who found me. After I unsuccessfully tried to pick his pocket," he said with a smile, "Anyways, he's the one that brought me in, I think he'd approve of me trying to help you. It's not so much for you that it is for him. If that makes sense." 

That made sense. It made a lot of sense. He was trying to make him proud. Like Marianne was trying to make her father proud. They weren't the same, far from it. But they might have a few things in common. But she still didn't like the idea of being around that other man. "You're sure I wont have to talk to him?" she asked him and he gave her a small smile. She could see that he was anticipating his victory. 

"Fairly certain," he said assuredly.

"If he insults me again, I'm gone," she told him. She would not be disrespected by him a second time. 

"Fair enough. Did you get work from Delvin?" he asked, clearly ready to change the subject and she nodded. 

"I have to go to Whiterun," she told him. From what she'd seen on her map it looked like a days journey there on a cart. It would take her a few days to get both jobs done. 

"I can keep your books for you if you want. You probably wont want to risk losing them," he told her, gesturing to the three books that sat beside her on the bed. 

Her eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, "You just want to make sure I'm coming back." 

His face lit up in a genuine smile. "You're damned right," he said, his tone full of amusement. It was probably for the best though. The books were large and heavy and they definitely wouldn't fit inside her small backpack.

She rolled her eyes before she grabbed the books on fire and healing and held them out for him. "I'll keep one to read on the way," she told him and he nodded before he took the other two spell books from her. 

"They'll be waiting for you on your bed," he assured her. 

With that said, he crossed her rented room and once again, with more grace than she expected, climbed out of the window and was instantly out of sight. Marianne sighed, and hoped she didn't just make a huge mistake. The double candle stick was still burning brightly, but Marianne was tired. Too tired to consider reading her book on mage-lights. Which was fine, she'd have plenty of time on the carriage ride she was sure. 

With her fate for the near future decided, she shoved her brush back into her backpack before placing it and the spell book on the floor beside her rented bed. Climbing under the fur blankets, she leaned over and blew the candles out before she settled into the mattress. 

It was a solid four days before she returned to Riften. The carriage rides both there and back took longer than she originally anticipated, due to a group of bandits taking refuge in a tower on the borders of Whiterun Hold and the Rift. Apparently the Jarls -not Counts or Countesses she learned from the carriage driver- were at war on who's responsibility it was to deal with the threat, which did nothing but slow traffic between the holds causing both to suffer. 

Those petty squabbles weren't exclusive to just Skyrim. Politicians were like that back in Cyrodiil too, worse even. Always bitching and fighting until something finally got done. Though Marianne would argue, that things were actually worse back in Cyrodill thanks to how the government was set up. The Jarls in Skyrim seemed to have more power and govern more land while the Counts in Cyrodiil had to run all major decisions past the Emperors court before setting anything big in motion. 

With the pocket of her leather pants now occupied by a very nice bracelet and broach, she entered the city of Riften through it's main gate. Remembering the way back to the guild, she took a left just inside the gate and made her way through the shadowed alleys. It was late afternoon, the sun already dipping behind the large stone walls that surrounded the city, but that was alright. There was no one else around as far as Marianne could see. And if someone with ill intent did happen to cross her path, she still had her dagger firmly attached to her belt. 

Her left hand held her spell book against her chest while she made her way to the guild's hideout. It was a bit weird going back all by herself, especially after the absolutely gods awful welcome she received the first time. But Brynjolf seemed like he genuinely wanted her in the guild. Plus it wasn't like the work was actually difficult, just tedious due to the traveling. But her trip to Whiterun hadn't been entirely in vain. She met the court wizard, after making an appointment. He was a nice man who showed her how to enchant her dagger. The blade now sported a slight green glow and Marianne was more than excited when she got it right on the first try. The court wizard, Farengar was his name, seemed genuinely happy about meeting a prospective mage, even one as ill experienced as Marianne. Apparently, the only other known magic user in the city of Whiterun was the healer at the temple. 

Farengar was more than willing to part with a bit of his knowledge. He helped her with her mage light and gave her tips she was sure would also extend to wielding fire as well. Unfortunately, when she inquired about studying under him, he refused, telling her that his work for the Jarl was much too important for him to take on a student. But he did say she could come back and visit when she was in the area. She was definitely looking forward to that. In addition to her newly acquired knowledge, her backpack was now filled with a new shirt. If things didn't work out with the guild, Whiterun would definitely be Marianne's next stop. It was the trading hub of Skyrim and the pockets there were brimming with gold. Since she was technically working, she only relieved a few unsuspecting patrons of their purses. All in all it was a successful trip and she was more than pleased with how it went. 

She reached the large stone mausoleum just as the sky was taking on bits of orange. Remembering how Brynjolf pressed a hidden button on the sarcophagus, her nimble fingers traced just beneath the stone lid and sure enough, she felt the large button. With a bit more force than she was expecting to have to use, the button was pushed in and the sarcophagus slid back to reveal the familiar stone steps that would lead to the entrance of the guild. Once she descended the ladder, which was much easier to do coming down with one book than going up with three, she followed the short, dimly lit tunnel that led to the large cistern. 

It was exactly like she'd remembered. Once again, the sight of the large table filled with food had her stomach growling as she passed it. Though the candle light was dim underground, she could see that both of the large desks over by the bookshelves were occupied. She rolled her eyes at the sight of Mercer, not at all eager to see him again. But the second desks occupant was someone she was almost sort of looking forward to talking to. "Brynjolf," she called, her voice cutting though the quiet cistern and he looked up immediately at the sound of his name. 

"Back already Mary?" he asked and she smiled. 

"Yup," she told him proudly. Her free hand reached into her pocket and she retrieved the two items she'd been sent to swipe and she held them up. "Do I give these to you or Delvin?" She asked him and he smirked.

"Either of us is fine," he said and she immediately set both items down in front of him on the open ledger on his desk. 

"Well, here you go. Oh, look what I can do," she said, all too excited to show someone her new trick. She placed the magelight book onto the top of his desk, partially covering his open ledger and giving him no other choice but to look at what she was eager to show off. She stared at her right palm, concentrating hard and a few seconds later it lit up in a bright mage light. She beamed at the red haired man. What she didn't realize was that the sleeve of her shirt fell down her arm slightly, revealing the thick scar that wrapped around her right wrist and Brynjolf's attention was immediately drawn to it. 

"What's that?" he asked, lightly touching her wrist with one of his index fingers. 

When she realized what he'd been pointing at, she quickly dispelled the light and pulled her sleeve down. "Nothing," she quickly told him and she noticed the slight look of concern on his face. 

Thankfully, he let it drop and returned to the previous subject. "You learned that spell pretty quick," he noted and she smiled, both at the compliment and because he didn't pressure her to explain her obvious rope scar. 

"I met the wizard in Whiterun. He gave me some tips," she told him, "And while I was practicing, some of it started coming back. So anyway, I was thinking, since I don't need this book anymore you should take it back in case someone else needs it." It was old, she doubted it would fetch any great amount of coin. 

He seemed entirely amused by her proposition, "I'll do just that, then. Never know, the next recruit might be a prospering mage themselves." He picked the old book up and she beamed at him. She watched Brynjolf as he walked the few steps over to one of the many bookshelves and placed the spell book onto a shelf beside a dozen or so scrolls. 

When he turned back to face her she was ready with her next inquiry. "Are my other books here?" she asked him. 

He smirked, "They're over on your bed, just as promised. Tonilia also left your new armour there as well." Her face lit up in excitement at the news. Marianne was all too excited to try on her new leather outfit. She made to leave when Brynjolf stopped her. "Lass?" He called and she turned back to see him holding a small bag of gold out for her. "Your pay," he said and she mentally scolded herself for forgetting about it. She needed that gold more than anything. She couldn't believe she forgot about it. Marianne stepped forward and took the bag from him.

"When's the last time you ate?" He asked her and her brow creased. She wasn't sure why he was asking but she'd answer him anyway. After thinking about it for a moment, Brynjolf interrupted her thoughts. "You're taking too long to answer. There's food on the table over there," he said, pointing an index finger at the table full of food she'd passed on her way in. When she turned back to meet his eyes, there was a clear look of confusion on her face. 

"What do I have to do for it?" She asked him and he exhaled a laugh.

"It's nothing fancy. If you want something hot, you'll have to pay Vekel to cook something up but that over there is for anyone to take. I suggest you help yourself," he said but she wasn't convinced. Far from it and Marianne placed her hands on her hips and gave him an unimpressed look. 

"Is this one of those things where I eat the food and then next time you need something from me, you remind me of when I ate the food and tell me I owe you?" 

He laughed, a genuine throaty laugh and Marianne wasn't sure, but it sounded like she heard a chuckle from the next desk over. Not that she was going to look. Their time apart had done nothing to quell the flame of her anger towards him. "No, Lass. It's free for everyone. It comes form the guild. Vekel comes in every few days with a bit of food for whoever wants it. Go eat," he said and her face lit up in excitement. Free food, a free bed and money to make. This was turning out to be better than she ever expected. She quickly left Brynjolf to his work and made her way over to the large table of food. 

Mercer exhaled a laugh from where he was leaning over his desk and examining his ledger. "Why did you bring her here, Brynjolf? She's too innocent for this," he said in a low voice as he watched the short, attractive Breton woman cross the cistern in search of the promised free food. He couldn't see, but he was sure she was still wearing that same beautiful smile he'd seen on her face a moment ago. 

"You know," Brynjolf said, his tone thoughtful, "I thought the same thing, at first. But that one's got a bit of fire. She's raw, stubborn and needs plenty of training but she's the best damned pickpocket I've ever seen. I think she'll be fine." He looked over in time to catch Mercer shaking his head as he returned his attention to the large book in front of him. 

"I admire your confidence, Brynjolf," he said, sparing one more glance at the woman who was now at the large table by the exit, happily piling a sizeable amount of food in front of her chosen spot at the table. A small smile came to his face as he watched her and it didn't go unnoticed by his long time companion. 

"You know..-"

"Don't start, Brynjolf," he said, turning his attention back to the numbers in front of him.


	5. The Market Job

When Marianne reached the table of food, a wide smile came to her face at the sight of the massive spread. It was the largest collection of free food she'd ever seen and she wasted no time in taking a seat at the table. She sat beside a male Bosmer, the very same one she'd seen cleaning his bow a few days ago. Her delicate hands began grabbing for anything and everything. Cheese, bread, fruit, vegetables and began piling it in front of herself. But it was when she reached for a berry crostata and dug a fork into it that the Bosmer spoke up. 

"There's no way you're gonna eat that whole thing," he said and she looked up with a mouthful of the sweet baked pie. 

"Mhmm," she said with a nod. 

The Bosmer gave her a look like she was full of it. "Ten gold pieces says you don't eat half of that pie," he said confidently and though she still had a mouthful of food, her eyes lit up at the prospect of making a quick ten piece. 

"You're on," she said, holding a hand up to her mouth while she answered around a mouthful of the pie. 

The Bosmer dug into his jacket and after a moment, slapped ten gold on the table between them. Marianne followed suit, digging into the bag of gold Brynjolf had just given her and placed ten of her own gold just beside his. After her gold hit the table she picked her fork back up and brought another huge bite of the pie to her mouth. It was good, tasting like snowberries. Which were a popular berry back in Bruma since they grew well in the cold weather. They had a bit of tartness to them but you couldn't really tell in the pie. It was very sweet, whoever baked it sure used a lot of sugar.

"So, what's your name?" she asked her dinner mate when her pie was a quarter gone. She shoved another bite into her mouth before he answered, his expression telling her he was clearly impressed that she'd gotten this far so quickly. Marianne could eat when the opportunity presented itself. Especially since she wasn't paying for it. The last time she got her hands on a bunch of free food, it was back in Bruma. She'd been lucky enough to befriend the local baker who gave her a bunch of old pastries that didn't sell. Needless to say, Marianne ate very well that week. 

"I'm Niruin," he told her. She liked Niruin so far. He seemed like a nice guy. 

When she swallowed her latest bite of pastry, she spoke again, "My name's Marianne, but you can call-"

"Mary," he said, holding a hand up to stop her from continuing, "I know. I was here when you slapped Mercer." She frowned at the memory of it. Mercer was the last thing she wanted to talk about. "Pretty bold move for your first day. We thought for sure he was gonna run you through for it." 

Marianne scowled and stabbed another piece of the pastry. "He deserved it," she said flatly before bringing the forkful of food to her mouth. Niruin chuckled and brought his drink to his lips. "So how'd you wind up in the guild?" she asked him around her bite of food. 

"I used to live in Valenwood working at my father's winery. We were doing well, really well. Plenty of coin, a huge mansion and I was even betrothed to a lovely young woman." 

Marianne's eyes widened at his story. "So what happened?" she asked him. Surely something awful had happened for him to fall so low as to become a thief. Marianne's own story made perfect sense. She'd always been a thief, it was all she knew. 

"Well, every day was the same boring routine; working at the winery, social visits with friends, parties with no one I cared about. I just wanted a little excitement. Something dangerous. So I started stealing."

"Wow, I feel the exact opposite way," Marianne blurted. She would kill for that kind of an easy life. She couldn't believe he had it all and gave it up willingly. That was madness. 

Niruin laughed, clearly amused by her response and brought his drink to his lips again. She simply shook her head and continued to eat her massive pastry. "It's not always better on the other side of things," he told her assuredly and she gave him a look like he was touched in the head. She wasn't trying to be rude, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't seriously questioning his sanity. 

When the pie was three quarters finished she looked over to her Bosmer dinner mate and tapped him on the shoulder to pull his attention from his own plate of food. "I'm still going strong," she told him with a victorious grin as she stabbed the pastry with the fork again. 

"Well I'll be damned. The gold's yours. Just aim for a bucket if you get sick," he said, sliding the small pile of coins toward her. She happily scooped them up while she chewed and dumped her handful of twenty gold in her coin purse. He tipped back his mug, draining the remaining contents before he set it on the table and got up from his place beside Marianne. "Well, I'm off to Falkreath," he said and Marianne's brow shot up. It was late, she wouldn't be surprised to learn that the sky was already dark. Only the really confident or the really brave traveled at night. 

"You're leaving now?" she asked him, not bothering to hide the surprise in her tone and he smirked. 

"I prefer my traveling to be done, unseen," he said. 

With that said, Marianne watched him grab his bow and backpack from beneath the table. He donned his equipment and swiped an apple from the table before he disappeared around the corner of the short tunnel. Though she could no longer see the Bosmer, her ears picked up the faint sound of his retreat as his boots connected softly with the moist ground. 

Alone once again, Marianne turned her attention toward the rest of the pastry in front of her. Once she'd finished eating that, she moved onto a bit of the cheese and bread she'd piled in front of her. When her stomach was filled, she swiped an apple off the table and reluctantly left the table, hoping some of the food would still be there when she woke. Crossing the cistern, she made her way over to where her bed sat at the end of the long row of beds that lined the far wall. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she had her own bed. And trunk for that matter. A place to store her things was also a wonderful thing to have. 

When she reached her bed, the first thing Marianne took notice of was her two remaining spell books and the pile of brand new clothes beside it. A smile came to her face at the sight of her new belongings and she quickly removed her backpack and set it down on the lid of the trunk at the foot of her bed. She sat on her bed and held up each of the garments to examine them separately. The jacket looked a bit heavier than she was used to, she probably wouldn't wear it unless the weather demanded something heavier than her vest. It was pure luck that the vest she wore was nearly the exact same shade of dark blue as her new clothes. 

The pants looked like they would fit her perfectly, which she was more than excited about. But it was the boots that put a big smile on her face. The boots Marianne currently wore had been hers since the orphanage. The place got donations every now and then and when Marianne spotted the already worn out boots in her size, she scooped them right up. Six years later and they were practically falling apart at the seams despite her many attempts to fix them. But the ones she now held in her hands looked new. They were nicely made too. Nicer than anything she'd ever owned. Wasting no more time, she kicked off her old boots and pulled on her new ones. Oh, and they were comfortable too she discovered when she got up from her place at the bed and walked a few paces to try them out. They were perfect, fitting her feet much better than her old ones. 

She returned to her bed, only to scoop up her old boots, spell book on healing and the jacket she'd been given and placed them inside the trunk at the foot of the bed alongside her backpack. She returned to the bed, which was pretty comfortable and had a decently thick fur blanket that was sure to keep her warm enough if the temperature ever dropped significantly underground. Using her newly discovered ability, she summoned a magelight into her palm and opened the large book on controlling fire. Marianne made it through the first four chapters before the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to her and without bothering to remove her boots, she climbed under her blanket and fell asleep, holding her spell book as she did.

When Marianne woke, she didn't know what time it was. It was difficult to tell while underground and she rubbed at her eyes to dispel the lingering sleepiness. After stretching out in her bed, which she still couldn't believe was hers, she sat up and spared a glance around the cistern. All the beds were empty except for hers, which led her to believe she slept much longer than she intended to. Brynjolf and Mercer were both hovering over Brynjolf's desk, pouring their attention onto something she couldn't see. Though she had no desire to be around Mercer, she desperately needed to pee and had no idea where to do it.

Thankfully, Mercer ignored her approach and Brynjolf happily pointed her in the direction of the bar that housed the only underground bathroom. Marianne gathered her clothes and quickly made her way to the bar. Vekel was nice enough to point her in the direction of the bathroom. It didn't smell gods awful, but it didn't smell the best either. But that was alright, she simply scrunched her nose and relieved herself before dressing. She donned her new leather pants, boots and her own dark blue tunic and vest. When she returned to the cistern, Brynjolf called out to her. Quickly ditching her other clothes on her bed, she made her way over to his large desk. "I have a job for you," he said. 

Though, this confused her and her expression gave that away, "I thought I would get jobs from Delvin." 

"This is a special job and I need you on it," he explained, "It'll pay more than the jobs you did in Whiterun. Double what you received for those." 

Marianne was definitely intrigued by this, "Well, wouldn't you want one of the others on it?" She wasn't trying to argue, but surely he'd want someone he had more confidence in to do it. He seemed amused by her reluctance, which was good. She was hoping she didn't offend him but Marianne got the feeling from their time spent together that Brynjolf wasn't an easy man to offend. He seemed to take everything in stride.

"Are you refusing an opportunity to make gold?" he asked, his tone teasing. 

Marianne shook her head. "Definitely not. What's the job?" she asked him and he smirked. He then directed her attention toward the sketch on his desk. From what Marianne could tell, it looked like a drawn out blueprint of the market stalls in the town square. She was slightly familiar with the layout and remembered the different weapon, jewelry and even Brynjolf's own potion stall. He went on to explain that a high profile client wanted one of the stall owners framed for reasons that would remain unknown to Marianne. But she didn't care, she was just interested in the large amount of gold she was about to receive after all was said and done. 

All she had to do, was swipe a specific ring from the jewelry stall when the owner wasn't looking and place it in the pocket of the merchant who owned the general goods stall. It was a double job but Marianne was more than up to the task. Brynjolf explained that it had to be her to do it since she was new in town and her face was an unfamiliar one. He promised to distract as many as he could with his latest false potion, a cure for baldness that he so lovingly referred to as 'Baldsbane' to which Marianne stifled a laugh. But the plan was solid enough and she was eager to get started. With their plan solidly in place, Marianne followed Brynjolf out of the familiar tunnel, up the ladder and out from beneath the sarcophagus. 

"I see you didn't waste any time putting on your new clothes," he said as they made their way out of the graveyard. She met his emerald eyes with her own dark blue ones and beamed at him. 

"Well, I'm a professional now. I wanted to look the part." 

He smirked at that and shook his head as they made their way through the slightly shadowed alleys. It was mid-day, Marianne discovered when she examined the sky. She'd definitely overslept. Brynjolf went over the plan once more with her at the edge of the alley and he bid her goodbye so he could go change into his merchant's attire. Marianne took her time, looking like a browsing customer and lingering at each stall. 

When Brynjolf returned, she loosely watching him set up his stall out of the corner of her eye. She made her way over to the jewelry stall and made conversation with it's owner. Madesi was a nice enough male Argonian who showed her numerous necklaces that were much too nice for her to actually consider buying. Eventually, she gave Brynjolf their agreed upon hand signal to show she was ready and he began gathering the attention of those around him to announce the development of his newest potion. The Argonian looked away for but a second and Marianne's quick fingers swiped the decided upon ring from it's place next to the others. When his attention was once again on the would be patron in front of him, she inquired about a bracelet that she was sure he wouldn't have. Feigning disappointment, she thanked him anyway and lazily made her way around the market stalls. 

Coming to a stop at the general goods stall that was manned by a male Dunmer she was already familiar with, she once again inquired about spell books. The Mer seemed almost offended by her inquiry. Marianne felt no remorse for framing him for stealing the ring, he was not a very nice person. He snapped at her the first time she asked him and he was just as rude the second time. It was honestly no surprise to her that someone would want to get rid of him. With his gathered crowd long gone, Brynjolf tried once again to gather the attention of those that still lingered in the marketplace. "Give it up, Brynjolf!" The Dunmer called to him, clearly fed up with earing about the potion and Marianne picked that exact moment to slip the ring into the pocket of his leather pants. Planting evidence, especially something so small as a ring was much easier than taking a coin purse. 

Coin purses varied in their weight and sometimes it was difficult to gauge whether a person would notice the sudden change in weight on their belt. Marianne had never been caught stealing a purse, but she had abandoned her intentions to do so a few times due to that very reason. With the ring now planted and the Mer's attention now solely back on the Breton in front of him, she thanked him for his help and made her way over to an empty bench in the square. She noticed Brynjolf's brief retreat while she ate an apple she'd swiped off the food table on her way out of the cistern and a few moments later, watched him return and continue his business with no changes in his demeanor.

A short while later, a pair of guards arrived at the rude Mer's stall and demanded he empty his pockets. There was a look of genuine surprise on his face when he retrieved the ring Marianne had placed there only a short while ago. The guards didn't buy his story of it simply appearing out of thin air and promptly arrested him, dragging him off with his hands tied together by a thick rope. The sight of which, caused nervous knots to form in the pit of Marianne's stomach. She hated it when they did that. It was a common method of arrest in Cyrodiil as well and it had the very same effect on her every time she saw it. Now feeling quite sick, she abandoned her half eaten apple on the bench before she took a deep breath and left the bench to make her way over to Brynjolf's stall.

"Well done, lass," he said with a wide smile as she nonchalantly picked up one of the potion bottles and turned it over in her hands, feigning interest in the fake potion. "Both the retrieval and the planting were excellently executed. I'm not sure I could have done it better myself." He went on and a wide smile lit her face as she looked over the large purple bottle in her hands. 

She met his eyes with genuine appreciation glittering in hers. "Thank you," she said and he returned her smile. 

"You're a natural at this. Keep it up and you'll be well off in no time." 

Marianne turned her attention back to the bottle in her hands so their conversation wouldn't draw attention. She feigned disinterest and picked up a different bottle. With nothing else planned for the day, she told Brynjolf that she was headed back underground to study her book and eat more free food. To which, he laughed but told her that was more than fine and he would find her for her payment later on. 

Satisfied with that, she set the potion down and shot him a curious look. "So what's that bald potion made out of anyway?" she asked him, genuinely curious about the bottle's contents. He shot her a devilish smirk. 

"Crushed bees and garlic," he said plainly and Marianne shot him a disgusted look that only made him laugh. She shook her head and said her goodbye, leaving him to scam his patrons with his gross concoctions while making a mental note to never ever consume anything Brynjolf prepared.


	6. The Goldenglow Job

Marianne was in the cistern, leaning over Brynjolf's desk and looking over a map of Windhelm when Mercer walked in angrier than she'd ever seen him. 

They'd been pouring their attention into the map on his desk for the last hour so she might memorize all of the different routes out of the city. She'd taken a rather high profile job from Delvin and Brynjolf was lending his knowledge to her of the large city she'd yet to visit to increase her chances of a successful getaway. The job required her to not only gain access to the castle, but steal the court steward's bracelet. Which, she was confident she could do as long as she was able to get close enough to the man. But since she was a Breton and the Jarl of Windhelm was known for his blatant racism, it could very well prove to be a major challenge. 

Marianne had been a member of the thieves guild for nearly a month now. Which wasn't very long at all so she was thankful to have scored another high profile job so soon. All of her jobs required her to travel and so far, she had seen a decent chunk of the province. She settled into her new routine easily enough and had saved up a decent amount of gold because of it. All of the free food she took from the table went a long way to helping her do so. 

Some of the rumors she'd heard about the racist Nords had proven true in the more Stormcloak occupied holds. The fact that her ears not only sported a very Khajiit piercing but obvious points meant that she was fair game for the most racists of the Nords. At times it felt like she was back in the orphanage all over again, only without the physical violence. The worst she received in Skyrim was verbal insults about her ears. But she just reminded herself that she was glad she was a Breton. Her father was a good man before he was killed and she got her ears from him. And as far as her piercing went, Shani was the only friend Marianne ever had and she gave her one of her own piercings. She proudly displayed the gifted ring in her pointed ear, despite what the rest of the world might think.

Brynjolf and Marianne looked up from the map in front of them at the sound of Mercer's feet angrily hitting the cobblestone ground as he approached. He stalked right over to his desk and with a quick swipe of his hand, the unlit candlestick went flying at one of the bookshelves, connecting with the wood so loudly that it caused her to jump at the sound. "Should I ask how your meeting went?" Brynjolf asked the man only for one of Mercer's hands to find his hair in his frustration. 

"That. Vile. Bitch." Mercer muttered, enunciating each word separately and Marianne rolled her eyes. Of course it would be a woman he was talking about. She suspected that whatever the issue was, it was entirely mercer's fault given his earlier rudeness toward Marianne herself. "That woman is the bane of this guild's existence. She wants Goldenglow completed immediately." 

She muttered something under her breath but it came out louder than she originally intended. Brynjolf's head whipped around and he gave her a hard look, "Don't start Mary." She met his eyes and saw the warning there. He never spoke to her like that before and she backed down immediately, quietly apologizing to the large Nord beside her. 

"No," Mercer said with a bite in his tone, "I want to know what she said. Speak up, Marianne." The latter part was spoken with more venom than she expected and she looked around the Nord beside her, meeting Mercer's light blue eyes with her own dark blue ones and he was giving her a dirty look that only brought out her own irritation with the man. 

"I said, maybe if you respected her, she might've been less difficult," she snapped at him only to earn a sneer in response. 

He shook his head and exhaled a laugh though his expression was anything but humorous. He looked like he wanted to throttle her. Instead, he chose glaring daggers and insults. "Tell you what, Marianne. Next time I have a meeting with Maven, I'll send you in my place. Then you'll see just how vile that woman truly is." he said, "Til then, keep your mouth shut on matters you know absolutely nothing about." 

Her own anger was rising at his disrespectful tone. "Surely the Guildmaster can get a simple job done," she snapped, both of her hands finding her hips before shooting him the harshest glare she could muster. 

"That's enough!" Brynjolf yelled at her, his voice echoing around the cistern. Again, at the sound of his scolding she backed down, her arms falling to her sides. A quick look around the cistern told her that Thrynn, a Nord she was annoyingly familiar with was sitting on his bed and even though the light was dim, she could see he was all too amused by the scene unfolding in front of him. Another two thieves, Sapphire and Niruin were at the food table, both turned around and shooting curious glances toward their not so quiet argument.

"Well if you're so confident, Marianne..." Mercer said, gaining her attention once again, "why don't you put your skill where your mouth is. You can do the Goldenglow job." She crossed her arms against her chest and glared at him before she opened her mouth to respond, only for Brynjolf's voice to talk over hers, effectively muting her response. 

"She can't do the Goldenglow job, Mercer. She's a pickpocket, not an infiltrator," he told the man, earning himself a glare in the process.

Mercer scoffed, "You're the one that's always bragging about your recruit, Brynjolf. Have a little faith in her." 

"What's the job?" She asked Brynjolf and he turned his head to the right, his green eyes roaming her face for a second before he shook his head. 

"Forget it. You're not doing it," he told her before turning back to face Mercer, "She'll die. Those mercenaries nearly killed Vex and you want to send her in?" He jerked a thumb in her direction and a deep crease appeared in her brow. She met Vex after her first week in the guild and a few days later witnessed her return from her attempt to rob an estate on the lake just outside Riften. It occured to her then that it was the very same job Mercer was referring to and her eyes widened when she realized Mercer genuinely wanted to send her off to the same fate. He was trying to kill her. He actually wanted her dead.

Mercer saw the change in her expression and fixed her with a nasty smirk, "What's the matter Marianne? Not so confident anymore?" She didn't respond, there was nothing she could say so she crossed her arms against her chest and turned her attention back to the map on Brynjolf's desk. She expected the subject would drop but apparently that was a foolish assumption because Mercer was far from letting it go. "Nothing to say, Marianne? And here I thought the one thousand septim reward would interest you." 

That definitely had her attention and her head snapped up. She met Mercer's eyes with a deep crease in her brow unsure if she'd heard the amount correctly. "One... thousand?" she asked, nearly choking on the words. Surely she'd heard him wrong. One thousand gold for breaking into a house? That couldn't be true. It would take her months to earn that kind of gold picking pockets. 

Mercer grinned wickedly at her. "One thousand," he confirmed with a nod. 

"What do I have to do?" she asked. 

Mercer exhaled a laugh and leaned one of his palms against his desk that was now one candlestick lighter, "Only empty the main safe inside the estate and burn three little beehives. Which, you should be able to manage just fine with your sticky fingers and blossoming fire wielding skills." 

She was torn, he made it sound so easy but she saw first hand what Vex looked like upon her return. The woman had not one but two crossbow bolts firmly planted in her right thigh. But then again, Vex was a Nord with absolutely zero magical abilities. Over the past month, Marianne made great progress with her fire and healing skills. She was still a novice, of course, but it was still a whole lot better than walking in blind like Vex had. On top of that, one thousand gold was just too big an amount to pass up. She decided she'd give it her best try. Worst case was it would be too difficult and she'd turn around and leave. "I'll do it," she said aloud and Brynjolf turned around to balk at her. 

"No," he told her with a firm shake of his head before facing the Guildmaster, "Mercer-"

"She's doing it, Brynjolf!" he yelled, his voice painfully echoing around the cistern and ringing in Marianne's ears. He sneered at the both of them before he spoke again, "Tonight. I suggest you help prepare your recruit, she'll need all the help she can get."

With that said, Mercer walked over to the door beside the row of bookshelves and dug into his jacket for moment before retrieving a key. He opened the door and exited the cistern, the door connecting with it's frame in a harsh slam, the sound once again echoing around the cistern. 

With a heavy sigh, both of Brynjolf's hands found his hair out of frustration and he shot Marianne a look of great disappointment that almost kind of stung to see after all their time spent together. "Why'd you do it, Mary? Huh? Why'd you provoke him? And right after a meeting.." he trailed off and she frowned. She wasn't sure why, but the disappointment in his tone had her almost disappointed in herself. It renewed her confidence if only to prove to Brynjolf that she could do the job just fine. She told him so, only to receive a doubtful look from him in return. He didn't think she could do it, but she was determined to prove herself to him. She would do it. She would empty the safe and burn the hives and when he saw what she'd accomplished, Brynjolf wouldn't be disappointed anymore. He'd be proud of her. 

Reluctantly, Brynjolf rolled up the large map of Windhelm and rummaged through the stack of papers on Mercer's desk until he found the blueprints for the estate Marianne was set to rob. Together, they began planning for what was sure to be the most difficult job she'd been given yet. 

After several long hours of pouring their attention into the blueprints of what she now learned was a small island Marianne would be infiltrating, she and Brynjolf decided she was as ready as she would ever be. Brynjolf didn't bother hiding his concern and tried more than once to talk her out of the task she was now firmly set on doing. But Marianne was as stubborn as they come and the moment she decided she was actually going to do it, that was it and she would not be swayed from her decision. 

They covered all of the best exits and Brynjolf had even called Vex in to go over the route she'd taken. But that knowledge would only extend to the outside of the property since Vex never actually made it inside the estate house herself. Once Marianne was as prepared as she could possibly be and her thick leather jacket housed several potions at Brynjolf's insistence, the tall Nord escorted her to the city's gate. The twin moons were just rising when she began making her way to the large lake outside Riften and the barest hints of morning light entering the sky when she reluctantly re-entered the city after the job was done. 

The job had been finished hours ago, but Marianne stayed by the lake's shore, waiting for the shock of it to wear off before she even considered returning to Riften.

Sneaking inside the estate itself was what she'd been the most nervous about. But once she was inside, she mentally pretended that she was back in the orphanage sneaking out of her room at night for food. It was silly, she knew that, but pretending that her life wasn't at stake really helped relieve some of the pressure she felt at doing her first break-in. Of course now, as she clutched her left arm to her chest and quickly made her way back to the guild as fast as her feet could reasonably carry her without tripping, she decided that no amount of gold was worth what she had endured on the island. Not one thousand, not one hundred thousand. She would stick to picking pockets and never, not for any reason, branch out into other methods of thieving again. 

She was still trembling from fear, even as she descended the ladder into the cistern and entered the guild hideout that was below ground. Her hands clenched into tight fists as she exited the short, dimly lit tunnel and made her way over to the pair of still-illuminated desks where her bosses were waiting. A few of the beds she passed were occupied and under normal circumstances, she would have attempted to tread quietly. But right now, all she could think about was getting this over with as soon as possible. 

"It's about time, Marianne. Our scout at the docks saw the hives burning hours ago," Mercer snapped as she approached his desk. 

Brynjolf was already rounding his desk with a look of concern on his face and she wondered what her own expression must have looked like. He came just a little too close to her, she decided, and immediately took a step away from him causing a deep crease to appear in his brow. She ignored him, in favor of retrieving the items she'd gotten from the estate's safe and placed them on Mercer's desk. It wasn't much, a piece of paper and a sizeable purse of gold coins. She met his eyes and saw that he was still giving her a dirty look.

"Have you nothing to say?" he asked, his anger bleeding into his tone and she shook her head. He scoffed, "Clear the safe and burn three hives, Marianne. Three. Not four. Don't you know how to fucking count?!" He was leaning far over his desk, his face twisted in a look of rage and yelling so loud she was sure everyone was just pulled from their sleep, if not by the initial yelling then by the echoing that closely followed. 

"That's enough, Mercer. The job is done, let it go," Brynjolf said, a harsh tone in his voice she hadn't heard before. 

Mercer laughed humorlessly, "Let it go? Like she just let half the guild's reward go by fucking up the job?" His hand knocked a goblet that had been filled with an unknown liquid off his desk. It clattered to the cobblestone ground noisily, the sharp sound echoing around the cistern. His gaze was harsh as he glared at her and it took everything in her to not visibly cringe under his stare. "You can forget about getting paid," he snapped before turning his attention toward the items she'd placed on his desk and tears stung her eyes. It was at that moment that Brynjolf noticed the blood dripping from her left hand that was still curled into a tight fist at her side. 

"You're bleeding," he said, earning her attention only for her to take another step away from him when he stepped closer. 

Her right hand closed around her left forearm and she clutched it against her chest, vigorously shaking her head. "It's fine.." she said, her voice barely above a whisper as the tears still glittered in her eyes. She blinked rapidly to dispel them. 

"Mary," he said, earning her full attention as he spoke in a low voice, full of authority. "If you're bleeding, we need to dress the wound." he told her only for her to shake her head again. She didn't want to be touched. She just wanted to go to bed. He sighed. 

"If it's the scars, you know I've already seen them," he said quietly. It wasn't the scars. It was the whole gods damned night she just endured. But realizing he wasn't going to let it go, she relented with a nod and he gestured to his desk. She rounded Mercer's desk, his still angry eyes now following her as she did and she sat on the surface of Brynjolf's desk while she watched him retrieve a large red potion bottle and wound dressings from one of the the desk's drawers. With his equipment now sitting beside her he turned his attention to her left arm, turning it over before a look of confusion came over his face. Knowing he wouldn't be able to see the wound until she removed her jacket, she pulled her arm from his grip and undid the few still intact straps that held it closed. When her jacket was open, she slid it off her shoulders and her right hand immediately held the top of her now ripped shirt together. 

"What did they do to you?" Brynjolf suddenly demanded but Marianne kept her eyes trained on the dimly lit, damp cobblestone ground. She held her left arm up for him to have better access to the wound, but upon quick inspection it seemed that it was no longer a priority. It wasn't deep, she knew that. The mercenary's knife easily cut through her flesh as she raised her hands to defend herself, but it was at an angle that caused minimal damage. And although she was still quite the novice when it came to healing, she managed to stem the bleeding when she reached the lake's shore. She suspected it began bleeding again only after her hasty trip back into the city. Brynjolf stepped in front of her and lifted her chin so she might face him. Her wide, fearful eyes met his and she could see his mounting concern. "Mary, tell me what happened." He said lowly and tears stung her eyes again. 

"I.. killed one of them," she forced out, her voice breaking before taking a shaky breath to try and steady herself. Her right hand clutched her ripped shirt even tighter against her chest before she continued, "He.. he tried to..." 

She couldn't bring herself to say it. It was too humiliating to say in front of everyone Mercer had no doubt woken up with his yelling. But it seemed like she didn't need to say it after all because Brynjolf was giving her a look like he knew exactly what she was trying to say. She was trying desperately to mentally block out everyone else but the Nord in front of her. She didn't want to think about the listening ears around her. "It was an accident," she told him quietly as the tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, "I couldn't reach my knife so I.. I lit him on fire. And then he fell on one of the hives. I know how to count, Brynjolf. I swear I do.. I-"

"It's alright," he said, gripping her shoulders tightly. 

She choked on a sob and lowered her face to wipe her tears away with her ripped shirt. She'd never killed anyone before. Hadn't even fathomed it. She'd always gotten by just fine by picking pockets and minding her own business otherwise. But now she had killed someone and she couldn't get it out of her mind. His face twisted in agony and the way his flesh smelled when he burned to death right in front of her. She was trembling all over again at the memory of it. Brynjolf called her name, tearing her from her thoughts and she looked up at his face through tear filled eyes. His jaw was tight, he was more angry than she'd ever expected to see him. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I'm sorry I messed up the job and-" 

"Don't you dare apologize," he told her in a stern voice and her eyes dropped to the floor. She focused on her still shaky breathing while Brynjolf started the process of cleaning the small knife wound on her forearm. He scoffed and she looked up briefly as he removed the cork from the red potion bottle. "Never should have let you take that job," he muttered, shaking his head as he dumped some of the sappy potion onto a thick cloth which he then pressed against the wound on her arm. It stung. Much more than she thought it could and she hissed before attempting to jerk her arm away from him only for his grip to tighten. "Hurts like a bitch but it's necessary," he quickly told her, "You do not want an infection, trust me. I doubt those bastards clean their weapons properly." She reluctantly nodded and squeezed her eyes shut tightly to ignore the pain in her arm so he could finish the task of cleaning and wrapping the wound. 

After the wound was properly dressed, a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked over just as Mercer arrived at the desk and passed a dark purple potion bottle to Brynjolf. She didn't look at his face, she didn't want to see that angry glare again. He uncorked the bottle and held it out for Marianne to take. "It's to numb the pain and help you relax," he said when she opened her mouth to ask. She eyed the now open end of the bottle with no small amount of skepticism. If the effect was relaxation, then it was more than welcome but she was hesitant to consume anything Brynjolf gave her. 

"Are there bees in it?" she asked him seriously, needing to know what she was getting into. 

He exhaled a laugh. "Not this time, lass," he assured her. 

She brought it to her nose for an experimental sniff and the first thing that hit her was notes of lavender. Much fainter than that, was another floral scent that she couldn't place. She tipped the small bottle back, drinking it all in one go. She was expecting it to taste like lavender due to the strong smell of it. She was surprised, however when it had more of a berry flavor but much sweeter. A small part of her mind thought it was odd, she'd never had a potion that was sweetened before and she briefly wondered if that was something common to Skyrim. It didn't take long for the small potion to kick in and suddenly Marianne found herself beyond exhausted and she swayed a bit where she sat on the desk. 

Noticing her sudden movement, or maybe just being familiar with the rapid effects of the potion, Brynjolf suggested she lay down. She nodded before she hopped down from his desk only to wobble a bit on her feet. One of Brynjolf's large hands shot out to steady her and not really having much choice, she let him help her over to her bed. Her vision darkened and her feet felt heavy as they crossed the cistern and she didn't quite remember approaching her bed but all of the sudden, she was in it. She didn't remember closing her eyes either, only suddenly realizing that they already were and she felt herself drifting off, her mind sinking deeper and deeper into a calm darkness.


	7. Talking About It Helps

When Marianne stepped through the large gates of Riften it was late, already approaching sunset. 

The carriage ride from Windhelm had taken much longer than originally anticipated due to a snowstorm in southern Eastmarch. She was thankful she bought a cloak when she did. Even if it did come out of her savings. The leather jacket she received from the guild, that was still mostly intact aside from a few clasps that had been hastily severed, offered some protection from the weather. But the snowy hold of Eastmarch was brutally cold. A cloak was a necessary extra layer and would surely come in handy if she managed to get accepted into the college as well. 

With the same frown she'd worn for the better part of a week now and a certain steward's very fancy looking bracelet in her pocket, she took a left just inside the gate and started the very familiar walk to the guild's hideout. After the goldenglow job, she slept late. No doubt due to the potion's effect. The moment she woke, she packed her backpack and without a word to anyone, she set out to retrieve the bracelet from the Jarl of Windhelm's steward. That was just over five days ago now. Marianne was actually impressed with how quickly she was able to gain access to the castle and get the job done. 

Lucky for her, there was an open position for a cook in the castle and upon learning this, she immediately applied. They hired her on the spot and on her second day, she was tasked with bringing the steward his breakfast. It was pure luck that the steward's bracelet was sitting in plain sight on his dresser that just so conveniently sat beside the door. Never one to let an opportunity slide, she tucked it into her pocket on her way out of his room and promptly left the castle feigning illness. She wouldn't be able to show her face in the castle for a while, til time skewed their memory of what she looked like but it was no matter. She'd met the court wizard the day before she took the bracelet and quickly decided that he wouldn't of been much help to her anyway. He was a short tempered, aging man that couldn't even bother to return her greeting upon her approach. She highly doubted he would have been willing to part with any of his casting knowledge. 

The stone mausoleum she was now intimately familiar with came into view while the streaks of red and orange that previously painted the sky began to settle into the deep blue of night. Her new cloak and already worse for wear guild jacket, both too big to fit inside her small backpack, were folded over her still bandaged forearm while she descended the ladder into the cistern. There was another entrance to the guild, a route that went through the underground bar. But she never used that entrance. She preferred the more direct route since a few of the more unsavory citizens often used the bar's entrance. Though, Marianne was probably considered unsavory herself due to her chosen occupation, but still. 

When she entered the cistern, it was quiet. A hopeful look came to her face when she noticed Brynjolf digging into the drawers of his desk. She'd been hoping he was around. Even almost kind of missed him when she was gone. Since it was late evening, she assumed the majority of the thieves that weren't off on jobs would be spending their coin in the underground bar as they so often did. Still carrying her belongings, she made her way over to the large desk, her boots softly hitting the moist ground and alerting him to her approach as she did. "Brynjolf." She called when she reached the desk only for Mercer to look up and meet her eyes with a smirk. "Not quite." He said as he straightened up and her face fell. "Sorry." She muttered and turned to leave when he spoke again. 

"He's not expected back until later." He said and she nodded. She would find Delvin and give him the bracelet instead. She made it two steps in the direction of the bar when Mercer's voice reached her ears again. "Delvin isn't here either." He said and she turned to face him with a frown. "If the Windhelm job is completed, you can leave the bracelet with me." 

Not really having another option, she quickly dug into the pocket of her pants and retrieved the very fancy bracelet and held it out for him. He quickly held it up to the candle light to examine it before a small smirk tugged at his features. She watched as he met her eyes and tilted his head towards his own desk, signaling her to follow him. Reluctantly, she obeyed, following him and stood in front of the large desk while he retrieved a key from his jacket's pocket. He unlocked one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of gold. He bounced it in his hand a few times, like he was testing the weight, gauging how much was in it before he held the bag out for her. She took it, muttering her thanks and turned her attention towards her bed at the other end of the cistern.

Marianne had half a mind to go to sleep for the night. She definitely needed to rest since she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she'd taken that potion. But she knew, just because she was back at the guild, it wouldn't guarantee her restful sleep. It seemed like every time she closed her eyes she saw the same thing, that man's death replaying in her mind and it kept her up most night's until well into the night. 

She approached the trunk at the end of her bed and sat on her legs on the cobblestone ground in front of it before using her right hand to open the lid. Her deep blue eyes widened at the sight of the large bags of gold and she immediately and noisily slammed the lid as panic shot through her. Had she mistaken another bed for her own? It seemed like it. Those bags of gold were not in her trunk or possession the last time she'd been in the cistern. She looked to her left and right, but there was no bed to her right. Hers was the last one in the line of beds. This was her trunk. A look of confusion crossed her face as she slowly opened the lid of the trunk again. They were still there, she hadn't imagined them either. Four large bags of what had to be well over two hundred gold sat inside the trunk beside her own large bag of gold she'd been saving up and it suddenly occured to her that she'd been paid for the Goldenglow estate job, despite what Mercer had previously said. 

Her mouth fell open at the sight of it all. She'd never had this much gold to her name in her entire life. Didn't even think her father had this much gold at once. While her mind was reeling from the fact she was now significantly more wealthy than she had ever been before, her eyes wandered to the other end of the trunk where a few bits of finely dyed fabric caught her eye. With a crease firmly planted in her brow, she placed the jacket and cloak she'd brought back from Windhelm on top of the bags of gold, only to reach for the nice garments at the other end of the trunk. 

Upon closer inspection, she realized that it was a pile of three shirts. A red one, a blue one and a purple one. All colored with a rich, dark dye. It was the kind of expensive dye that people in Cheydinhal, Bruma and the Imperial city dyed their clothes with. The cotton was soft between her fingers and there wasn't a wrinkle to be found on any of them. They were new. 

The shirts were nice, too nice Marianne decided and she couldn't help but wonder what she had to do for them. Placing them back inside the trunk, she let the lid close before she got to her feet. A quick look behind her told her that Mercer was back at his own desk, pouring his attention into what looked like a letter in the dim light. Ignoring the uneasy feeling in her gut, she crossed the cistern and approached his desk. Both candlesticks burned brightly, illuminating his face and he didn't look irritated, more bored. He hadn't looked up at her approach so she called his name. 

His eyes rose from the letter in front of him and his brows arched at the sight of her once again in front of his desk. "Yes, Marianne?" He asked and her right arm found her left bicep. "The shirts in my trunk..." She started, mentally wondering if she was pushing her luck with the man. She wasn't afraid of him, but after the stressful week she'd had, she wasn't exactly in the mood to argue with him again.  
Though again, he didn't look irritated so it was probably safe to converse with him. Either way, it was too late to change her mind now. "What about them?" He asked, sparing a glance at the letter in front of him. He turned it over, the writing continued on the back, not that Marianne could make out what it said with it being upside down from her perspective. 

"Well, what do I have to do for them?" She asked him honestly and he exhaled a laugh, though there was no humor behind it. His light blue eyes looked up from his letter to briefly roam her face before he answered with a question. "Are you unfamiliar with the concept of guilt?" He asked and her brow creased. It clicked for her then that he was giving them to her, for free because he felt bad. For what exactly, she wasn't sure. Marianne was the one that voluntarily took the job in the first place, even if he had been an ass about it. If she hadn't taken the job, then she wouldn't of had to kill that man. It didn't make sense to her that Mercer would feel guilty for something that she'd basically done to herself. 

With her lack of a response, he sighed. "If that isn't good enough, then consider them a gift." He said, abruptly turning his attention back to the letter in front of him. "It doesn't really matter, the end result is the same, I'm sure." Feeling like he'd just dismissed her, she turned without another word and made her way back over to her bed. With no Brynjolf to talk to and no Delvin to get a job from, she reluctantly retired to her bed where she tossed and turned, drifting in and out of a restless sleep.

The next morning found Marianne, up earlier than usual and sitting just outside the giant stone mausoleum in Riften's graveyard. 

After a particularly restless night, she woke well before the sun and made her way to the local inn where she paid to soak in a fresh hot bath. As tired as she was, soaking in the hot water definitely helped alleviate some of the stress in her bones. Then she dressed, in a familiar pair of dark blue leather pants and boots with the exception of a very dark purple tunic. The soft fabric felt even better on her delicate skin than she could have expected. After a lifetime of rough spun tunics and falling apart clothes, she almost felt like a new woman in her latest getup. 

With plenty of time to waste, she took extra time to wrap her hair in a swirling bun of braids on the top of her head. The piercing near the tip of her left ear was on full display but when Marianne looked in the large mirror in the inn's bathhouse, she barely recognized herself. A part of her reconsidered her hair and clothes. She looked almost too nice. Certainly too nice to be able to get away with picking a pocket unseen. But if she had a job to do, she could always change. After more gold was spent on the first hot meal Marianne had in a good month, she left the inn as the sky was just turning into a light blue. 

She was on the ground and had just watched the sun rise over the walls of the city, bathing everything in a soft, warm glow. In the distance she could hear the faint sounds of shopkeepers in the town square starting to set up their stalls. A couple of birds were pecking at the ground nearby, no doubt looking for worms and other insects in the fertile soil. Several ants were already making quick work of a scrap of bread she'd had leftover from her breakfast at the inn that she decided not to eat. 

Her back was to the stone side of the mausoleum with her knees to her chest while the index finger of her left hand was tracing absent-minded patterns in the soil beside her when she heard the soft approach of boots in the dewy grass. She looked up and her deep blue eyes were greeted by a smiling Brynjolf as he plopped onto the grass across from her dressed from the neck down in his finest clothes, no doubt planning for a day of scamming patrons at his stall. "Morning, lass." He said in that ever calm voice of his. Aside from their rocky beginning, she genuinely liked Brynjolf. He was easy enough to get along with and generally pretty easy going. He praised her a lot and she like that too. Not to mention, hardly anything seemed to bother him. He was fairly carefree for a thief. 

Marianne used to be a bit carefree herself. You'd have to be, to live the nomadic way she had for so long. It wasn't particularly hard, a bit lonely at times but she got by. But now, recent events weighed heavily on her mind, constantly occupying her thoughts and for the first time ever, she felt truly lost. "Hello, Brynjolf." She responded flatly, not very much in the mood to socialize. She was beyond tired, not having properly slept for the better part of a week. Her attention returned to the soil to her left and she resumed her mindless drawings there. Brynjolf sighed. "You know, it wont get any better til you talk about it." He said and her eyes rose to meet his. His expression had changed, genuine concern now shone through his eyes and Marianne herself sighed. 

"Have you ever... killed anyone?" She asked him and he nodded. "Aye." He said immediately and she frowned before turning her attention back to the still damp ground beneath her index finger. "Well... how do you stop, seeing it? Like, all the time?" She asked him and he was quiet for a moment, like he was genuinely contemplating his response. 

"Time." He said finally and she looked up, shooting him an unimpressed look. "That isn't the answer I wanted." She told him and he smiled. "Sorry, lass. It's all I've got. Talking helps though." He said and she sighed again. She was doubtful that pouring her heart out in any measure to a thief she'd barely known over a month would help much. But it couldn't possibly make her feel worse than she already did and Brynjolf was now the closest thing she had to an actual friend, so maybe it was worth a try. 

She took a deep breath before she met his eyes again. "I wanted to join the college and become a mage. You know, to make my father proud. He wasn't like us. He did honest work. But now I killed someone.. I think all I've done so far is disappoint him."

Brynjolf shot her a look of disbelief and scoffed. "If your father was as good of a man as you say he was, then he'd be proud of you for defending yourself no matter the cost." He told her and she frowned. "He deserved to die for what he tried to do to you, Mary. Your actions were as just as they come." He sounded so sure, but she was still doubtful. If she hadn't taken that job then none of it would have happened. "And I've no doubt that if it wasn't you, it would have been someone else. Maybe someone that couldn't defend themselves." 

Her frown deepened at that. What if that was true? How many people had he tried to hurt before her? How many would he have gone on to hurt after her?

"The world is complicated, Mary. The reality of it is, your father isn't here. You have to make the best decisions you can and so far I think you've done just that. You survived despite his absence. I think he'd already be proud of you." His words struck a chord deep in Marianne. She hadn't thought of it like that before but maybe he would be. Living through the things she endured at the orphanage and then surviving despite not having any real skills. Now here she was, a thief, but a thief with a trunk full of gold and nice clothes on top of it. She still wanted to join the college, as bad as she ever had. But maybe she could stop putting so much pressure on herself in the mean time. 

She gave Brynjolf a smile, albeit a small one and having seen the slight change in her demeanor, he returned it. As graceful as ever, he got to his feet and held a hand out to help Marianne to hers. She grasped his hand and he pulled her up to her own feet. "You look nice today." He said and her smile widened before one of her small hands found it's way to her purple shirt. "Mercer gave it to me." She told him, tugging lightly at the soft fabric. She really didn't know what to make of her Breton boss. One moment he's a total ass to her and the next he's leaving fine garments in her bedside trunk. "He's... generous when he's guilty." 

Brynjolf exhaled a laugh before he shook his head. "Well, since you look so nice today, I was thinking you could help me in the market. I've come up with a genuine love potion that's sure to be a hit." He was giving her a devilish smirk and both of her hands found her hips. She pursed her lips and gave him a look like he was full of it. "Genuine, huh?" She asked him playfully and he feigned offence at her accusation. "Of course it's genuine. I only sell the finest potions lass." Her smile widened at the absolute bullshit he was spewing. Joking with Brynjolf already had her starting to feel better. Maybe she just needed to fill her time with activities and over time, she'd be able to stop dwelling on her mistakes. 

"I'm not selling crushed bees." She told him seriously and he laughed. "No bees this time lass. This ones garlic, lavender and just a pinch of nirnroot for a nice glow. Alternatively, it makes a hell of a stamina potion." He said and Marianne rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness and shook her head. He tilted his head towards the entrance of the graveyard and the two of them began making the short trip to the marketplace.


	8. The Business Of Love

Scamming patrons in the market square turned out to be a whole lot easier than it looked. Especially when you played on the emotions of others. Apparently the love potion Brynjolf had concocted was a hit. Marianne and Brynjolf sold six of them before mid-day. 

Apparently, the key to running a successful scam, Brynjolf had told her, was that you had to also sell real potions the majority of the time. Then, you could market specialty potions and already having a good reputation, people were more likely to purchase. She never would have guessed that Brynjolf had any real knowledge when it came to alchemy, but he did and was well versed about the various effects of several native plants in the surrounding area. Marianne had just sold one of the love potions to Madesi, the male argonian who she'd relieved of his fancy ring just over a month ago when she weaved her way through the now bustling market square back to the Nord's potion stall. Her mood had greatly improved after her early morning talk with him. She was feeling almost like herself again and she found herself having more fun than she expected to while helping Brynjolf sell the fake potions. 

The weather was lovely, just a few clouds dotted the sky and it was warm. Nearly too warm as it was now well into the summer season. A much welcome change from the harsh cold she experienced being further north for almost a week. She knew she would have to invest in some thick furs if she ever got accepted by the college. The soft purple tunic Mercer had given her was thin enough that the summer heat didn't bother her at all. Having been on her feet for a few hours now, her stomach growled as she crossed the cobblestone ground and when she finally reached Brynjolf's stall, he was facing away from her. "You''ll never guess who just bought one of the potions-" She stopped short when she realized there was another man beside the Nord behind his stall. A man dressed in clothes just as fine as Brynjolf's himself. "Sorry, I didn't realize you had a.." 

Her lips parted in surprise and her eyes widened when she realized just who was standing beside Brynjolf, out in the daylight and dressed in what she was sure were his finest clothes. She already considered him an attractive man in the dimly lit cistern, with the ever present stubble that covered the length of his wide jaw, blue eyes and shoulder length brown locks. But now, with the bright afternoon light shining down on them, her eyes greedily raked over the sight in front of her. The dark blue tunic he wore was just as fine as her new ones and thin enough that she could see the hint of defined muscles in his arms and broad chest. The sleeves were rolled up a bit on his arms, no doubt due to the heat of the day and she could see the criss cross of thick veins beneath his taut skin. Even his light blue eyes seemed even brighter than they had before as he stared back at her with a look of almost surprise on his own face. He looked too good she decided and that's when she realized she'd been staring. "Customer." She quickly finished, tearing her eyes away from the Breton's and focusing on the Nord beside her. "Should I come back later?" She asked, not wanting to interrupt whatever they had going on. 

Brynjolf was fixing her with a wry smirk when she met his eyes and she had the sudden urge to jab her elbow into his side. She didn't though, just patiently waited for his response. "No need. What were you saying?" He asked cooly and she fixed him with a smirk of her own. "I sold another one. Madesi." She told him proudly as she passed him the small bag of gold. "Apparently, there's a lovely lady argonian that works down at the docks and Madesi is absolutely smitten with her." She almost felt bad for scamming him when he told her the story of how they met. He was unloading his supply cart just outside the city's gates and he dropped one of his crates, rings and necklaces fell everywhere. Then, the beautiful red scaled Wujeeta appeared and got down on her hands and knees to help him find them all, getting her dress dirty in the process. "I'm kind of rooting for this one, so I gave him some tips to help him out." She told the Nord and he snorted a laugh. 

"What do you know about the fine art of wooing a woman?" He asked her cooly and her hands found her hips and she gave him a dry look. "Well, I am one, to start." She said with a roll of her eyes. "I suggested a lovely bouquet covered in crickets." She then went on to tell the Nord how she snuck into a play in the Imperial City once, for the poorly guarded food table of course. Those actors eat really well and it was all too easy to pose as a stage hand in the packed theatre. Anyways, the play was about the forbidden love between two Argonians from families at war with each other and the main actor gave the object of his affections a bouquet of roses covered in crickets. It won the lady argonian over in the play so it was bound to work just as well for Madesi. 

It worked when the stablemaster's brother gave Marianne flowers when she was in Bravil. Worked a little too well, in fact. She'd only been out of the orphanage a year when she met the smooth talking Imperial man. He'd been her first. Foolishly, she entertained the idea of his feelings being genuine, til she spotted him a week later with another woman. That stung, more than she thought it would but it was her own fault and she knew that. She learned her lesson after that and never entertained similar thoughts again with any of her lovers. 

"What makes you think that will actually work in the real world?" Mercer asked and she looked over to see a look of genuine amusement on his face. "Because. What could be better than flowers and dinner? All women like flowers, Mercer. And nobody is gonna turn down free food." She told him matter-of-factly and turned her attention back to the Nord who was looking all too amused with her story. "Besides, he's now the proud owner of a genuine love potion." She said with a wide smile. "I told him to sprinkle just a bit on the crickets and let the potion do it's work." 

Brynjolf broke out into a fit of laughter before he composed himself. "You, lass, are a natural at this." He said and she beamed at him. He pulled a drawer open at his stall and retrieved a small bag of gold before holding it out for her. She was surprised, she was having so much fun she didn't expect to get paid for it. She wasn't about to refuse though and took the offered gold from him. "We're about done for the day, why don't you head out?" He said and she nodded and said her goodbyes to the men before she turned to leave.

"Don't go far." Mercer said and she faced him with a look of confusion before he continued. "Brynjolf, Delvin and I are working on something and we'd like to have you along for it." He told her and her face instantly fell. A quick look around the market told her that no one was close enough to hear their conversation. "I think I'll just stick to.. fishing, if that's alright." She told him quietly. After the one and only burglary job she'd done that went sour and still weighed heavily on her mind, she had absolutely no desire to branch out anymore. Working the stall with Brynjolf was different, there was no danger involved. 

Mercer was quick to pick up on the reason for her reluctance, even though she hadn't said it. "It wont be like that again." He assured her. "All you have to do is ride in a cart. Three men with a cart full of goods will draw the attention of anyone we pass. But if you come with us, we're more likely to pass as travelling merchants and less likely to arouse the guards suspicion." She wasn't convinced and her expression conveyed just that. "Tell you what." Brynjolf started and she reluctantly met his eyes. "We're going over the plan tonight. Meet us in the bar, we'll have a drink and go over everything. If by the end of it, you still don't want in, no one will pressure you." 

Her right hand absently rubbed her left forearm which was still bandaged beneath her new shirt while she gave it some thought. If it was a group job, with the three strongest looking men in the guild and all she had to do was ride in a cart, she could at least hear them out. "Well, alright." She relented and the Nord smiled at her. "Excellent. We'll convene in the bar after sunset." He told her and with a nod, she turned and left the two men, weaving her way through the many would-be patrons that still hovered in the market. 

Mercer watched her retreating form, the gentle sway of her hips as she made her way across the cobblestone covered ground and eventually out of sight. The deep purple of the shirt she wore perfectly complimented her fair skin, making her already dark blue eyes seem even more blue somehow. The sight made all the lovelier by the intricately braided bun of brown hair on top of her head. She was too beautiful and he wasn't the only one that noticed. More than a few heads turned when she passed which almost made him regret giving her such nice things to wear. Almost. 

He wasn't certain she would even wear the shirts. She looked almost afraid to touch them when she discovered them beside the gold in her bedside trunk. As if she were somehow beneath them. But she did wear one, and he was more than glad for it. It suited her more than he thought it would. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he remembered the way she briefly looked at him just moments ago. Seeing her reaction first hand, he was more than glad he opted not to change from his nicer clothes immediately upon his return from his meeting in Ivarstead. Those wide sapphire blue eyes stirred something in him he hadn't felt in the longest time. His longtime Nordic companion exhaled a laugh beside him and when he met his eyes, was fixing him with a wry smirk. "Don't start, Brynjolf." He said to the man who's expression changed from playful to serious. "Come on, Mercer. She's a lovely lass. No one could fault you for wanting her." He replied only for Mercer to shake his head with a sigh. 

"She's not Evelyn." He muttered and Brynjolf snorted a laugh at that. "No, she's definitely not." He said, earning him a halfhearted glare from the Breton. He gave him a serious look before he spoke again. "I know she's not Evelyn, Mercer. But you know.. there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, you've mourned that loss long enough." 

Mercer wasn't convinced by that. Sure he was attracted to Marianne but what he had with Evelyn... that was different. While time may have dulled the pain of her loss, what they had was real. Besides, Marianne was just so.. 

Mercer shook his head. "She's naïve. Impulsive. Stubborn-"

"Talented? Beautiful?" Brynjolf offered only for Mercer to let out an exasperated sigh. Of course she was beautiful. He'd thought so the first time he laid eyes on her. She was a little on the thin side, without much to offer in the way of breasts, but she had the loveliest of hips. Not to mention in the short time she'd been a member of the guild, she more than proved her worth as an excellent pickpocket. And then those eyes of hers. Eyes that he now knew had seen awful things but still somehow shone with a type of hopefulness. She was different. Innocent even, despite her troubled past.

He ran a hand through his shoulder length locks, still not convinced one way or the other. "I thought for sure she'd have gone back to avoiding me." The Breton confessed and Brynjolf thoughtfully ran a hand across the thick stubble that covered his jaw. "She blames herself, oddly enough. Seeming more focused on the fact that she killed someone that what the bastard did to her to deserve it. Which makes me wonder just what went on in that orphanage. Those scars are years old, had to of happened while she was there." He said while keeping his eyes trained on a guard that was patrolling the marketplace. 

"That's why I'm here actually." Mercer said and Brynjolf watched as he dug into his rather nice, leather satchel for a moment before he retrieved a piece of parchment and passed it to him. "Delvin's contact in Cheydinhal took a short trip down to Leyawiin." He said as Brynjolf opened the parchment, his eyes scanning the writing. "There have been complaints for years about that place from former occupants but whether the Count's court doesn't care or believe them, I'm not sure. But I'm telling you this, the stuff in that letter.. that bitch makes Grelod the Kind look like the patron saint of Heart's Day." Mercer spat, his voice laced with venom. Brynjolf didn't bother to finish reading the letter. He folded it and passed it back to the Breton while his eyes scanned the market for the very same guard he'd seen a moment ago. He found him, over by the weapon stall and he kept his eyes on him while he spoke in a low voice. "How did you want to handle it?" 

Mercer scoffed. "We'll handle it exactly how we did for old Grelod." He said quietly. Brynjolf turned to face him directly and spoke in a low voice. "Been a while since we called on the Brotherhood for anything. You want me to do it?" He asked, only to see him shake his head. "No. I'll take care of it. After we return. No doubt they'll want significant payment for the lengthy trip down there and back. Just make sure it stays between the two of us." 

"Between us." He agreed.

Marianne spent the afternoon in the training room. When she returned from her time in the market the first thing she did was find Tonilia who fenced things for the guild but apparently it worked both ways. She needed new spell books. More advanced ones on fire and healing. Tonilia assured her that between her own contacts and Delvin's, she could get them to her in no time. All she had to do now, was work and wait for her new books. 

With nothing else to do before sunset she wasted time with the different practice locks. Marianne could pick simple locks well enough but found significant trouble with the more fancy ones. Embarrassingly enough, she nearly broke every single one of her lockpicks trying to get the safe open at the goldenglow estate. Niruin arrived in the training room a short time later and shot a few arrows at a straw target before offering to show Marianne how when he caught her watching him. Which she thought was nice of him, but Marianne had no desire to learn archery. Her father had been killed while on a hunting trip and she wanted nothing to do with the concept. If she was hungry, she'd find a pocket with gold and buy her food. 

Eventually, the sun fell and after taking her hair out of the intricate hairstyle and letting the braid waves hang freely to her waist, Marianne made her way to the underground bar. It was surprisingly packed with patrons from both the guild and above ground citizens. Though, Marianne was sure they were the more unsavory citizens Riften had to offer. A couple of men sat near the bar. Two with lutes in their hands while another tapped his hands against a drum. Together, the three of them playing a catchy tune and she wondered if that was a common occurrence. She rarely found time to visit the bar at night. Her nights in Riften for the most part were spent sitting on her bed with one of her now finished spell books in her hands. Though more than once she'd found time in the early afternoons to have a drink with Delvin and Sapphire. 

A smile came to her face when she spotted Sapphire sitting beside her uncle at the already full table. She was late, she realized and not willing to bother a very busy Vekel for a drink, she quickly crossed the bar and took the lone empty seat directly across from Mercer, sitting between Sapphire and Brynjolf. She couldn't help but notice that Mercer was still wearing that same dark blue tunic he'd worn earlier and her eyes briefly lingered on the taut skin of his muscular forearms that were dimly lit by nearby candlelight. "Well, it's about time." Sapphire said, snapping Marianne out of her wandering thoughts and she muttered an apology to everyone at the table. 

"Oh, It's alright. We've barely just started." Delvin said cooly before he took a quick drink of what looked like ale. "How did that Windhelm job go?" He asked and Sapphire slid her own bottle in front of Marianne, which she gladly took a drink from before she answered. "Easier than I expected, honestly. The kitchen was hiring help so I took the job. Had plenty of access to the castle after that." She shrugged at the memory. Her first day was a real nightmare. They placed her in front of a cooking spit and even with the recipe books in front of her she had to stifle a gag when she taste the absolutely gods awful stew she'd made. After that, they had her cleaning, setting tables and taking missed meals to the Jarl's court. Which, worked out too well to her advantage in the end. She told the group this, earning a chorus of laughter for it.

Sapphire left and returned a little while later, her arms filled with four mugs of wine. Two for Marianne and two for herself. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" Marianne asked only for the half Nord woman to shoot her a playful look. Sapphire was fun to be around, even more fun to drink with, the few times she had and she was glad to have her at the table that was mostly filled with men. 

They went over the plan. Delvin explained that they were going to Shor's Stone, a little village just north of Riften. In two days time, there was a gathering planned for travelling merchants at the inn and they fully intended to make off with as much merchandise as possible while Mercer kept a lookout inside the inn. His job was to make sure the drinks kept flowing while Brynjolf, Delvin and Marianne unloaded the unguarded carts. Of course he would have the easiest job. He got to have drinks while everyone else did the manual labor. 

Unfortunately Sapphire was waiting on a shipment of her own to come in so she couldn't go. The now recovered Vex was off on a job in Markarth leaving Marianne the only woman left in the guild that could tag along. It didn't seem like a dangerous job and since she'd be surrounded by the senior members and not by herself, she agreed to do it. It was well into the night by the time they finished their planning and Marianne and Sapphire had drank their way through several mugs of wine, leaving them both properly drunk. With the music still playing, Sapphire suggested dancing. 

It sounded fun, but Marianne was a bit reluctant. "I only know dances of Elsweyr." She told the woman who's eyes lit up. "You can dance like a Khajiit?" She asked and Marianne nodded proudly. "My bunkmate at the orphanage was Khajiit. We were left alone a lot and there wasn't anything else to do. So we danced." She explained and a her heart ached a bit for it. Shani was her best friend. The only real one she'd ever had. Sapphire was fun to be around, but they hadn't established a real friendship yet. But it seemed like they were well on their way when Sapphire pulled Marianne to her feet and demanded that she teach her the steps. 

Leaving the men at the table, they crossed the bar, passing a table full of men that were betting gold on the strength of their arms to where the music was louder and there were already a few others dancing. It had been a long time since Marianne danced. She spent a few years in the Imperial City, there's an inn down by the docks that's cheap to stay at, costing only three gold pieces per night. The music was good and the drinks were cheap too, making it one of Marianne's favorite places in Cyrodiil. "It's a lot of footwork and hipwork." She explained, showing Sapphire an easy starting position with her hands on her hips. 

She proceeded to move her feet with a gentle sway of her hips as she did before she spun in a circle and brought her hands together in a clap. She demonstrated a few more times before Sapphire joined her, surprising her with how quickly she picked up the steps. They danced for a few songs and Marianne showed her more difficult moves which she eventually got the hang of. She was about to suggest having another drink when they were approached by an Imperial man. It was one of the men she'd briefly witnessed trying to wrestle another's arm against a table. 

He was alright looking, with a mop of black curls on the top of his head and deep brown eyes. He introduced himself with a name Marianne instantly forgot and asked Sapphire to dance. Sapphire instantly agreed and having lost her dance partner, Marianne made her way back to her seat at the table. She instantly noticed Mercer and Brynjolf's absence. The only occupant left was Delvin, who looked more than content to drink by himself. "She ditched me." She said when Delvin looked up at her approach. He smiled. "Don't take it to heart luv." He told her and she wouldn't. Sapphire looked all too happy with her Imperial dance partner. 

A quick move of her hand brought Brynjolf's abandoned, yet still half filled mug to her lips and she watched Sapphire dance with her new partner while enjoying Delvin's light hearted company.


	9. The Merchant Job (Part 1)

Two days later found Marianne making her way to the stables just outside Riften's main gate. 

It was early morning and she was sure it was a bit past the groups agreed upon time to meet and head north up to the small village of Shor's Stone. Though it was early, it was warm and a couple of pigeons were fighting over a scrap of bread just outside the stables. They startled upon her approach, their grey wings swiftly carrying them up to perch on Riften's tall walls. Because the job involved them posing as travelling merchants, she opted not to wear one of her nice shirts and instead wore her old green tunic. It was thicker than the others and was already clinging to her dewy skin. Made a bit worse by the fact that she decided to let her brown waves loosely hang to her waist. Her hair would be up by mid-day she was sure. 

She fanned the front of her shirt a few times to help cool her heated skin as she approached the mostly empty cart where three familiar men stood just beside it quietly conversing with each other. They were dressed down, just like she was to lower suspicion. It was a little odd seeing them all in plain clothes instead of their typical guild leathers. Though, she knew both Mercer and Brynjolf had a tendency to dress much nicer when the occasion called for it. She was late, she knew that. But it wasn't entirely her fault. Madesi had seen her while she made her way through the marketplace and stopped her. He was all too excited to tell her that the flowers had been a hit and Wujeeta returned his affections. Marianne was more than pleased to hear the news of their blossoming relationship and wished the tall Argonian all the best. 

"Sorry I'm late." She told the three men when she reached them. She then turned her attention to Brynjolf. "I left much earlier but Madesi stopped me. Apparently your love potion really was a stamina potion. The crickets were going wild on top of the flowers and Wujeeta loved it." She told him only for a wide smile to cross his face. "It's just as I said, lass. I only sell the finest of potions." He said and she whole heartedly returned his smile. She then turned her attention towards the Breton that stood in front of her and placed her hands on her hips before shooting him a victorious grin. "Told you it would work, Mercer." She said and watched as the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

"Well," Delvin started, rubbing vigorously rubbing his palms together in what Marianne was sure was eager excitement. "since all of us are here and in good spirits, I say we head out." Delvin seemed to be all too eager to get the job done, but Sapphire said he didn't get out much so she couldn't really blame him for that. She was sure, she'd go a little stir crazy herself if she spent too long underground. The past two days found Marianne happily helping Brynjolf at his stall. As it turned out, she was very good at selling potions. It was almost too easy, customers freely poured their hearts out to her, similar to how Madesi had, which made it all the more easy to recommend a potion for what ailed them. 

Mercer, Delvin and Marianne sat in the cart while Brynjolf took the reigns. Mercer sat to her right while Delvin sat directly across from her, near the front of the cart and she smiled when she watched him retrieve a lute from one of the boxes of supplies. "I didn't know you played." She said after the horses began moving and the carriage lurched forward. She was more than a little excited for the entertainment on what was sure to be a long day of mostly sitting. He smirked. "Course I do. There's a reason I run the jobs that require a delicate touch." He said, holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers. Marianne smiled at that and he began lightly plucking the strings and tuning the instrument. "Do you know anything besides songs of Skyrim?" She asked him only for Brynjolf to scoff loudly from the front of the carriage. "Something wrong with the music of the Nords?" He asked and she rolled her eyes. 

"It's brutish." Marianne said immediately. "Age of oppression? Ragnar the red?" Those were the two most popular songs that played in Riften's inn. "It's all about blood and death." She told him. The last thing she wanted to hear on what was so far a nice day, were songs about dying. Brynjolf released an exasperated sigh. "Bretons." He muttered with a shake of his head and Delvin laughed while Marianne giggled. To which, he shot her a surprised look over his shoulder. "I've never heard you laugh before." He pointed out and she crossed her arms against her chest all the while cursing the slight redness in her cheeks. 

"I laugh." She said defiantly. It might have been a while, but she definitely laughed. "Maybe none of you are as funny as you think you are." She told them only for Mercer to exhale a laugh to her right. "You really are a stubborn one, aren't you?" He asked her, his light blue eyes glittering with amusement when she faced him and she narrowed her own eyes at him, feigning annoyance. "I am not stubborn." She said before turning her attention to the cobblestone road in front of the carriage. 

In the short time Marianne had lived in Skyrim, she'd seen several of the major cities in the different holds. Though, she quickly decided that Riften was her favorite. It was just south enough to offer actual seasons instead of the constant winter of the northern holds. The forest surrounding Riften was teeming with wildlife. Even from where she sat on the cart, she could see and hear birds in the sky and watch plenty of fluffy bunnies scurrying across the forest floor. Most of the forest was made up of green aspens that she was sure would turn a lovely shade of gold once the fall approached. 

Delvin filled the silence with the delicate strumming of his lute. Other than the light tune, they rode the majority of the way in silence. Marianne got comfortable on the carriage bench, sitting on her crossed legs and practiced summoning her flames, which she was only getting better at. Aside from how awful the goldenglow job turned out, the lighting of the three initial hives was flawless and she had perfect control of the flames she summoned. She was now significantly better at controlling mage lights as well, the one she summoned hovered well above her palm, undisturbed by the gentle rocking of the carriage. 

Mid-day arrived and the sun, high in the sky only made everything hotter. She'd just thrown her hair into a bun and secured it with a piece of string she retrieved from her backpack when Brynjolf pulled the horses to a stop. "Why are we stopping?" She asked the Nord who replied that the horses would be both hungry and thirsty. Everyone abandoned the cart in an attempt to stretch their legs and relieve themselves. When Marianne returned to the cart and saw the apples Brynjolf had pulled from their supplies for the horses, she offered to help. "You really want to feed the horses?" He asked incredulously and she shrugged. "Sure." She said and he gave her an amused look. "Alright, Mary. You feed them and I'll get the water." 

With that decided, she gathered the apples in her arms and went to round the carriage, only to stop and turn back to the Nord. "Am I supposed to cut these?" She asked him quietly, in reference to the apples and he barked a laugh that only made her flush with irritation. It was a genuine question. She wasn't a stablemaster. The closest she ever got to horses aside from riding in carriages, was the couple of times she slept in a stable. But she always stayed away from the animals. "I don't know what's so funny." She snapped and he leaned against the carriage to laugh harder. 

She firmly chewed her cheek while she waited for his laughter to subside. Eventually he turned to face her only for one of the apples she was holding to bounce off his broad chest. It hit the cobblestone road and rolled to a familiar pair of boot covered feet. "What in oblivion is going on over here?" Delvin asked as he approached the pair. Marianne shot Brynjolf a look, a warning to keep his mouth closed. 

"You've got to stop throwing things at me." Brynjolf said with a laugh. She gave him the most unimpressed look she could muster. "You're a Nord, you'll be fine." She quipped before rounding the carriage to feed the horses. They took them whole, she discovered no thanks to Brynjolf's lack of help. She returned, a few moments later and reached for the waterskin in her backpack and drank deeply, the lukewarm water quenching her thirst but failing to offer any reprieve from the heat of the day and she fanned her shirt against her chest for the artificial breeze it created. 

Brynjolf appeared just as she was replacing the cork on her waterskin and she could hear the amusement in his tone when next he spoke. "How did it go?" He asked and she glared at him. "Brutish. Just as I said." She told him before climbing on the carriage. She took her earlier seat and was soon joined by Delvin. Mercer was taking his time it seemed because he was the last one to return and boarded the carriage right away. But Marianne was more than relieved that neither he nor Delvin had bore witness to the embarrassing horses incident. After the horses finished drinking from Brynjolf's offered bucket, he took his earlier spot at the front of the carriage and they were moving again, back on the road to Shor's Stone. 

With the heat of the day still at it's height, sweat pooled under the bandage on her arm and she rubbed it absentmindedly, raking her nails over the very itchy, still healing wound as Delvin played his lute. "I can heal that." Mercer said, his voice cutting through Marianne's thoughts and once his words registered she whipped her head around to face him. "If you want." He added and her lips parted in surprise. "You're a mage?!" She asked eagerly and a slight smile lit his face as he raised his left hand, summoning a ball of swirling flame in his palm. She scooted closer, closing the distance between them and grabbed at his arm, holding it still so she could see the ball close up. She was awestruck by how effortless it was for him. He didn't even look at his hand when he did it, meaning he was a lot more powerful than he let on. 

Aside from the rude court mage of Windhelm, the last true mage she met was Farengar, but he'd been too focused on his work for the jarl to do any real demonstrating. He'd given her tips but seeing it first hand was so different and a wide smile lit her face before she met his eyes again. "Why didn't you tell me you were a mage?" She asked and he smirked before his free hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand away from his arm. "Open your hand." He said and she did, spreading the fingers of the hand he held. She watched, wide smile still firmly intact as he passed the flaming sphere from his hand to hers. "Concentrate on the shape." He instructed when it started to flicker in her hand. Which was easier said than done since her mind was also occupied with the feeling of his warm hand still wrapped around her wrist. It wasn't a place she liked to be touched but she found that she didn't mind it so much when he did it. 

It wasn't long before she got the hang of it and eventually became brave enough to pass it between her hands a few times before she closed her hand around the sphere, dispelling the flames. "Thank you." She told him sincerely, facing him with a smile. His light blue eyes were unreadable as he stared back at her. She turned her attention to her left arm where she pulled the sleeve up and removed the bandage that was wrapped around her arm. The cut that ran across her forearm was half healed. She'd been working on it, making a little progress each day. The top of the wound was still covered in a thick scab that covered the length of it. She turned on the bench, bending her right leg towards herself so she was facing him completely before she held her arm out for him. 

With a touch that was more gentle than she expected, he pulled her arm closer, holding it firmly in his left hand while a bright glow sprung to life in his right palm. He placed his large hand over the wound and though she couldn't see around the bright light, she could feel the skin pull and seal back together. It didn't take long, less than a minute before he pulled his right hand away, revealing her arm that was now completely healed without even a scar to show for it. A wide smile lit her face at that and her eyes lingered on the now exposed rope scar on her left wrist. She met his eyes and he must have read it on her face because he quickly shook his head. "I can't." He told her and her brow creased. "Why not?" He was clearly skilled in the art of healing. If anyone could heal it, it would be him. 

"It's already healed. Magic can't fix them." He said and her face fell. "Ever?" She asked, not bothering to hide her disappointment. That was the whole reason she included restoration in her magical studies. She hoped that over time she could become skilled enough to remove the thick scars on her own. He shook his head and her heart sank at the revelation she would have to look at them for the rest of her life. She muttered a thanks for healing her wound before she pulled her arm away from his hand and without another word, she slid back to her earlier spot at the front of the carriage. Delvin, who had stopped playing his lute to watch the scene in front of him started playing again and Marianne stared at the grainy wood of the planks that made up the bench across from her for the remainder of the ride. She was devastated and didn't care if her face advertised it or not. 

They reached Shor's Stone a little while later and Mercer went inside the inn to join the other merchants that had gathered there. It was a bigger village than she expected. There was even a small barracks which meant a bigger guard presence. It was a nice enough little village though, there was a mine that was no doubt the reason for the settlements existence in the first place. There was also an inn, of course, as well as a small potion shop and smithy. Brynjolf, Delvin and Marianne lingered for a while until they were sure they wouldn't be seen. She watched as they kept track of the guards' rounds until they'd gotten them down perfectly timed each time. That was something Marianne herself was familiar with. Knowing where the guards were at all items was an important part of successfully picking pockets. Once it was decided that the time was right, they began unloading as much as possible from the other four carts. The three of them quickly piled as many goods as they could onto their own cart in between the rounds of the guards. 

With the cart now filled as much as it reasonably could be, Delvin made his way deeper into the village to visit the inn himself and signal to Mercer that the job was done. Marianne rode in the back of the carriage as Brynjolf directed the horses to take them a short way from the city. They pulled off, just out of sight in a particularly thick patch of trees to wait for the others to return. 

Unfortunately, Delvin returned alone. He explained that Mercer wasn't able to slip away and him and Brynjolf began thinking of a suitable distraction to draw him from the inn. Leaving him behind wasn't an option. He would instantly become a suspect once the goods were discovered stolen. She was listening to the two come up with different ideas when she suddenly remembered something that happened in an inn back in Cheydinhal.

"I've got an idea." She suddenly said, earning the attention of the two men. Both of them looked more than surprised to hear her speak for the first time in what had to of been a few hours by now. She quickly told them about the time she was inside the inn, minding her own business when there was a man sitting at the bar with his friends. His wife stormed in and caused a scene, forcing him to escort her out. 

"That's bloody brilliant." Delvin said approvingly but Brynjolf didn't look convinced. "It's a solid enough idea, but no one is going to believe you're his wife." He told her.

"I can fix that." Delvin said and the two of them watched as the Breton boarded the carriage. Immediately, he started rooting through the stolen goods before retrieving a crate of garments that was under a few rolls of fabric. Marianne made a face when he pulled out a blue cotton dress and a brown scarf. "What do ya think?" He asked the Nord who thoughtfully ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. "I am not wearing that." She said before Brynjolf could respond. "I can just wear this." She said, gesturing to her own clothes. "It's not like they're nice. I'll fit right in." 

Brynjolf simply shook his head. "You might pass for a merchants wife if you wear that and we rub some dirt on your face." He said and she scowled. "Dirt?" 

"Yeah, definitely gonna need some dirt." Delvin chimed in before tossing the cotton dress at her. She caught the mass of fabric and held it up. "I don't think I've ever worn a dress." She confessed and the Nord snorted a laugh. "Just think of it like a mage's robe." He said cooly. That made sense. She'd have to get used to the flowy fabrics of robes eventually if she got accepted by the college, so why not start now? "I can do that." She said with a smile and quickly made her way further into the woods to change. She pulled her hair down and like Delvin said, she rubbed some dirt into it and her face before slipping into the too long dress. For good measure, she dirtied her dress a bit as well. It wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be, the flowy fabric actually felt nice, offering reprieve from the heat of the day. 

She held up the skirt of her dress along with her own clothes as she made her way back to the carriage where the two men were waiting. "It's too long." She said when she reached them and Delvin retrieved his knife from his belt before kneeling at her feet to remove some of the extra fabric there. Brynjolf stepped forward and dusted some of the dirt off her face before adding more to her forehead. "This is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me." She muttered, earning a chuckle from both of the men. A few moments later, Delvin was finished and Brynjolf placed the scarf over her head. "Make sure your piercing doesn't get exposed." He said and she nodded, both of her hands holding the scarf together against her chest. 

When Delvin was finished at her feet he stood and her eyes followed the movement of his hands as he pulled his pinky ring off and took her hand. He slid it onto the proper finger and turned it around so that the red stone was facing her palm, the back of her finger now appearing to sport a plain wedding band. "Now, you look like a wife." He said with no small amount of sarcasm. She gave the Breton in front of her a dry look. "If this works I better get paid extra for this." She told him, earning a laugh. 

"Come on, lass." Brynjolf said and she saw the amusement in his eyes. "Show time."


	10. The Merchant Job (Part 2)

Delvin accompanied her, if for no other reason than to show her the location of the inn.

Shor's Stone was a nice little village. Loud too, she realized as she and Delvin walked through the bustling streets. The blacksmith was hammering away at a sword that looked to be steel, from the quick glance she spared toward the sound. A couple of similar looking children ran past the pair, closely followed by a rather scruffy looking dog. Two guards patrolled the lone street but they didn't look twice as Delvin and Marianne passed them in their plain clothes.

"There it is." Delvin said as they rounded the curve of the cobblestone road and it came into view. There was a woman at a vegetable stall just across from the inn arguing with the man behind the counter over the apparently too-high price of cabbages. "He's just to the left of the door, at a table with six other men." He told her quietly and she nodded. "My hands are sweaty." She confessed as they got closer to the almost shabby looking inn with a thick straw roof. "You'll be fine, Mary. You just need to get irritated." He said and she asked him how before he exhaled a laugh. "Remember when he said you should work at the bunkhouse?"

That did it. That more than did it and Marianne suddenly had the urge to slap him all over again. After all the time she'd spent as a member of the thieves guild and despite his recent kindness toward her, she was still awash with anger at the memory of their first meeting. "There ya go." Delvin said, picking up on her anger with nothing but amusement reflecting in his tone. The last thing he told her before they parted, was the alias Mercer was using.

Delvin lingered by the bottom of the inn's creaky wooden steps while Marianne ascended them with a firm stomp each time her feet hit the old wood. Once at the top of the steps, she quickly crossed the porch and and angrily shoved the door open. It was necessary for her to hold onto that anger for the plan to work. The last thing she needed was to crumble in front of a room full of people they'd just robbed.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dim firelight of the inn, she scanned the table to her left. He was facing her and she caught the slight widening of his eyes when he realized just who walked in the door. "Marcel!" She snapped with as much venom in her tone as she could muster. All eyes were suddenly on her and she watched as Mercer's face suddenly mirrored her own angry expression. "Morgara!" He snapped back at her without missing a beat, his own tone laced with irritation. Having an alias thrown at her wasn't something she'd been expecting but her surprise was short lived and she let out an angry huff to recover from being caught off guard.

Her feet swiftly carried her over to the table where he sat and the palm of her hand connected harshly with his cheek. The sound was sharp in the previously quiet inn and a chorus of chuckles erupted around the table at Mercer's expense and now all eyes were on the exchange. She must have hit him harder than she intended because he let out a pained grunt before she saw genuine irritation flash in his eyes. "You abandon your wife and child to.. to drink?!" She snapped, keeping her angry eyes trained solely on Mercer. "How dare you! How do you expect us to survive while you spend all your earnings on mead?!" She couldn't remember exactly what the woman in Cheydinhal had said but that was pretty much the gist of it. It was apparently enough though, because not to be outdone, Mercer suddenly shoved his chair away from the table. The wooden legs scraped angrily and loudly against the shabby floor as he stood from his place at the table and took the short step that separated them before looking down at her with a harsh glare on his face.

Though he was a Breton himself, he was much taller than her and the anger on his face looked so genuine she took a half step away from him, purely out of surprise. He was much better at this than she was. "Foolish woman. And just who is watching our son while you traipse in here after me? You ungrateful wench!" He growled in a low voice and her mouth fell open in surprise at the insult. One of his hands roughly grabbed the top of her arm as he glared at her. "You'll have to forgive my young wife. She doesn't yet know her place." He said to the men. "Give me a moment and I'll get rid of her." He said rudely before jerking her roughly towards the door. A few seconds later, the door to the inn swung shut behind them and they were once again greeted by the bright light of mid afternoon.

She pulled her arm away from his bruising grip to jab her elbow into his side. "Wench?!" She snapped as they descended the stairs to where Delvin was waiting for them, her tone laced with genuine irritation. Delvin's brows shot up at the sight of them but said nothing as the three immediately started down the cobblestone road. "You deserved it. You slapped me. Again." He said in a low voice, his own anger with her on full display. "Well, it worked, didn't it." She snapped again before she let out an irritated huff and pulled the scarf off her head and ditched it in a nearby bush before she crossed her arms against her chest.

"I can see why you were only in there two minutes." Delvin said, not bothering to hide his amusement and she leaned around Mercer to glare at him. "Yes and it worked so I'll be expecting proper payment." She told him before increasing her pace. Her feet angrily hit the cobblestone road as she left the other two Bretons behind and hurried back to the carriage while ignoring the very annoying sound of chuckles as she did.

Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her side when she reached Brynjolf at their cart still in the forest, just off the side of the road. A look of surprise crossed his face when he saw her alone, though she could see his face relax when he looked past her. "What happened?" He asked immediately and she let out another annoyed huff as she passed him. She stopped and turned to face him. "He, is an ass." She said, pointing directly at Mercer, not caring whether or not he saw before rounding the back of the carriage to gather her regular clothes. The grass was thick and pulled at the hem of her dress while she walked, making it all the more difficult to navigate the forest floor. Even though Delvin had removed the excessive length, she still had to hold the blue cotton skirt of her dress up once again as she made her way across the ground.

That was twice now he called her a whore and she was beyond pissed about it. She had just grabbed her backpack and clothes when a low voice spoke up beside her. "Marianne." An angry exhale left her before she responded. "Leave me alone." She said, leaving her belongings on the back of the cart and facing him with genuine anger in her eyes. "I tried to help you." She said incredulously. She'd done nothing but go well out of her way to help him and whether it was an act or not, calling her a whore was over the line. "And it worked flawlessly." He said, a slight smirk tugging at his features. Her lips parted in surprise at the sudden compliment but her brow creased in confusion. "You did well, Marianne."

Oh, why did he have to say it like that? The way he praised her with that low voice of his that was both rough and smooth somehow. She liked earning his approval. Liked it a lot more than Brynjolf's or Delvin's. Her irritation was melting with each second he looked at her with those piercing blue eyes of his. It was the kind of look that made her pulse race and insides quiver for just having seen it. "Just Mary is fine." She told him, realizing he'd said her full name. He stepped closer then, til she was forced to crane her neck to meet his eyes and he fixed her with a smirk before he spoke again. "I prefer Marianne. If it's all the same to you."

She felt it then, a warmth she hadn't felt in the longest time. It sprouted in her chest and came up to rest in her cheeks. It didn't go unnoticed by him either and she saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a genuine smile. Oh, hells. He could call her whatever he wanted as long as he kept looking at her like that.

It suddenly occured to her that they weren't alone and Brynjolf and Delvin were no doubt listening to their exchange. She tore her gaze away from his eyes and crossed her arms. "I'm still mad at you." She told him and he exhaled a laugh. "Well, that's only because you're stubborn." He said with a grin before boarding the carriage. She placed her hands on her hips and huffed in annoyance. "I am not stubborn. You are just annoying." She said before grabbing her clothes and rounded the carriage to see Brynjolf and Delvin leaning against it and looking a little too casual.

Brynjolf heard her approach and turned to face her with a look of genuine amusement. "Ready to leave?" He asked as Delvin passed her to board the carriage himself and she nodded. "Right after I change." She said and he shook his head. "Sorry lass, we need to put as much distance between us and them as we can." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the small village that housed the carts they'd just robbed a little while earlier and she fixed him with a look of disappointment before turning around and throwing her pants and tunic at her backpack that still sat between the two benches. She boarded the carriage, which was no small task due to the annoying dress she was wearing and immediately noticed the lack of sitting room.

With all the cargo they were carrying, it left only a small space on either bench for sitting room. Annoyingly enough, Delvin had his feet kicked up on the bench he was on and already had his lute in his hands, his nimble fingers lightly plucking at the strings like he didn't have a care in the world. That left only one place to sit. With a cross of her arms and an annoyed huff, she plopped down on the bench to mercers left which put her firmly between him and a crate of what looked like spun silk. The carriage lurched forward and the began moving once again, making their way back to Riften.

Her eyes stayed firmly planted on the crate of silk to her left while she did her absolute best to ignore the feeling of his arm pressed against hers. Which was made more difficult when his body heat reached her through the two thin layers of cotton they wore and Marianne was forced to realize that she was a lot more attracted to Mercer than she originally thought.

They rode for a while in silence, the only sounds around them were Delvin's soft strumming of the lute in his hands and the happy chirping of birds in the trees. With the afternoon sun waning, it became significantly cooler which was a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day. Once the sun fell behind the trees and the sky took on streaks of red and orange, Brynjolf pulled the cart off the road, coming to a stop between a patch of thick trees. Assuming they were only briefly stopping to relieve themselves, Marianne grabbed for her clothes before Brynjolf appeared. "What do you think?" He asked Mercer who was already sparing a glance at their surroundings. "It'll due just fine, I'm sure." He said and that's when Marianne spoke up. "For what?" She asked them and Brynjolf scoffed. "Can't drive in my sleep, lass."

Her eyes widened in surprise when she realized they intended to make camp for the night. It made sense of course, travelling at night with a cart full of goods was suspicious enough but it also posed a significant threat from bandits. She always hated it when she was forced to camp in the wilderness while travelling. They left the cart and Marianne was immediately sent to gather firewood while Mercer retrieved a bow from their supplies and went to hunt while there was still a bit of light left. Apparently Delvin and Brynjolf were going to set up the camp which only made her roll her eyes. She could have helped to set up the camp, but of course not. She had to do the manual labor, while still wearing the damned dress. The hem was catching every few paces and even ripped a few inches when it got caught on a fallen log. Needless to say, she was more than annoyed when she finally returned to the group.

Mercer had already returned and was sitting in front of the fire beside Delvin. Brynjolf was a few paces away, cleaning what looked like a couple of rabbits and Marianne did her best not to gag at the bloody sight of the process. Seeing blood was one thing, but witnessing a man skinning a dead animal was a whole other thing and not something she particularly wanted to witness. She much preferred the look of the final product instead. "Welcome back." Delvin said cooly as she reached them and she tossed her armful of sticks at the ground with an irritated huff.

"What would your mothers say?" She asked them and Delvin's eyes lit up in genuine amusement. "About our ability to prepare and serve culinary genius in the middle of the woods? She'd be quite proud, I'm sure." He replied and Mercer smirked while Brynjolf snorted a laugh from where he was a few feet away. She rolled her eyes and both of her hands found her hips. "No. About you men fussing over the fire while I do all the heavy lifting!" She snapped, letting her frustration be known and Delvin smiled, undeterred by her anger. "We're a team, Mary. And everyone has to contribute. Since you can't hunt, or clean a kill," He jerked a thumb at Mercer and Brynjolf respectively. "and judging by the fact that tasting your own culinary creation nearly made you sick back in Windhelm, I think it would be best for you to stick to gathering wood."

Her mouth fell open at the insult while both Mercer and Brynjolf broke out into a fit of laughter. With an annoyed huff and a blush of humiliation, she turned on her heel before stomping over to where the carriage was. After retrieving her backpack and clothes, she retreated into the woods to wash up. Once she was far enough away from their camp, she took the dress of only to toss it to the forest floor. A small part of her mind wondered if the college offered pants instead of robes, because she was definitely not a fan of the flowy fabrics. She dug into her backpack and retrieved her waterskin and a rag which she then used to wash as much dirt and sweat as she could from her face and body. It wasn't a proper bath, but it would have to do til they arrived back in Riften and she could visit the inn.

A few of the thieves in the cistern preferred to bathe with a bucket of the lake water that filled the cistern. While Marianne had bathed in a lake a time or two when she was short on gold, she much preferred the warmth provided by a proper bath. Once she was as clean as she could be, she dressed in her pants and tunic and pulled her boots back on her feet. She pulled one of the backpack straps over a shoulder and walked the short way back to their camp. After throwing her backpack back onto the cart, she made her way over to the fire where it looked like a stew was simmering in a deep pot that was balanced between two rocks in the fire. There were four bedrolls arranged on the ground around the fire and she took the lone empty one between Brynjolf and Mercer. Delvin was softly strumming his lute again and she stretched out on her adopted bedroll, laying on her back while the food continued to cook.

The men were deep into a conversation about how they would spread out the stolen inventory amongst their fences so she let them be and focused her attention on the now starry sky instead. The twin moons were just starting their ascent over the tree tops when her eyes fell closed of their own accord. With the exhaustion of the day catching up and the lulling sounds of the lute and crackling fire, she fell asleep before the food was finished cooking.

_When she opened her eyes, it was early morning. The birds in the trees were just starting their morning crooning and she suddenly realized she was no longer beside the fire with the others. She spared a glance around only to find herself on the forest floor. The grass was long enough to form a plush surface beneath her and a few stray leaves were scattered around her head. Then she heard it. "Marianne." That voice, low in her ear. Then she felt it. Him. His mouth on her skin, kissing and sucking the fair skin of her neck and she moaned, her fingers digging into the soft earth at her sides as his mouth trailed over her collarbones, raking his teeth across the thin, delicate skin there._

_Her breathing hitched when his mouth closed over peak of a breast and she keened when he suckled there, briefly shooting pleasure down her spine only to pull away too soon. She cried out when he blew a cool breath of air onto her wet nipple, causing it to harden painfully and she moaned again when his lips landed on her skin once more._

_Open mouthed kisses trailed down her toned abdomen before he sensually dipped his tongue into her navel as if to hint at his true intentions and her body clenched from anticipation alone. He nipped at the skin of her lower abdomen as he travelled lower, til he reached her mound and his large hands gripped her thighs in a bruising grip as he held them apart, baring her core to him. Those eyes of his, those piercing light blue eyes bore into hers as he lowered his head to taste her._

A loud sound pulled her from sleep and her eyes snapped open. A quick look around told her that it was early, the barest hints of light blue were just entering the sky and her three companions were already packing up the small camp. With a heavy sigh, she got to her feet and began rolling up her borrowed bedroll. "Morning lass." Brynjolf called, suddenly appearing beside the dying fire and began the process of stomping it out. He kicked fresh dirt onto the embers and stomped it a few times for good measure. "Morning, Brynjolf." She muttered, getting to her feet and carrying her bedroll over to the cart all the while desperately trying to think of anything but the dream that she definitely remembered having.

The first thing she did was hand off her bedroll to Delvin who tossed it onto the cart with the others. As she handed it over a glint of silver caught her attention and she realized she was still wearing Delvin's pinky ring. She removed the ring and passed it to him when he turned back to face her. "Thanks luv, I completely forgot." He said, accepting the ring with a smile and slid it back to it's place on his right hand. "You're welcome." She said with a nod. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him to her left. But she could not face him yet. It was too soon. Brynjolf was whistling a tune that sounded very much like Ragnar the Red as he passed them on his way to the front of the cart.

With everything loaded up, Delvin was the first to board and assumed his earlier position, taking up the length of his own bench. Mercer quickly joined him, taking his earlier seat as well. That left only one spot for Marianne and her teeth sharply bit into her bottom lip as she joined them, reluctantly taking the only spot left. She sat next to him and crossed her arms and stared at the dark blue leather that covered her feet. The carriage lurched forward and they were moving again. Marianne couldn't wait to get back to Riften and put some space between herself and Mercer. Forgetting about the dream was impossible while she was forced to sit with her arm pressed against his.

They were a few minutes into the journey when that voice of his cut through the almost tense silence. "You're quiet this morning." Mercer said and without thinking, she looked to her right and met his eyes. Those same eyes that now made her pulse race to see staring back at her. Her dream flashed in her mind at the sight of those eyes and she couldn't stop it, a deep scarlet pooled in her cheeks and neck. He gave her an unreadable look before she tore her gaze away from his. "Just tired." She said as she once again focused her attention on the crates of silk to her left.

It was going to be a very long ride back to Riften.


	11. Training

When the carriage Marianne was riding in finally reached Riften, it was late. 

Streaks of pink and orange painted the late evening sky as she hopped off the cart and made her way towards the city's main gate. The guards knew her by now and gave her no trouble, immediately letting her pass through when she approached. She took a deep breath once inside the city. It felt like coming home. Marianne hadn't had a home in a long time so she couldn't remember how it felt to belong somewhere, but she imagined it felt a lot like the feeling she got every time she returned to the guild. 

Her fireball spell book was held in her left arm while she walked the familiar cobblestone streets. She took her time. Now that she was back, there was no hurry, no feeling of imminence as she walked through the large, bustling city. A slight, proud smile lit her face from the knowledge that she'd mastered from her spell book. Tonilia had really come through, a fireball, advanced healing and novice lightning books were all waiting for her when she returned from her trip to Shor's Stone. It cost just over eight hundred gold for the books. Which was just over half what she had to her name but it was gold well spent and the books were such nice quality. They were new. A stark contrast to the dusty and aging books she'd received from Brynjolf.

Her latest job had taken her all the way to Markarth. Which was a massive city built into the side of a mountain on the far western side of the province. She'd taken the job shortly after they returned from Shor's Stone in an attempt to put a bit of distance between herself and the Guildmaster that was now on her mind more often than not. But it was a fruitless endeavor, if anything, the distance only increased her yearning and she couldn't wait to complete the job and return to Riften. 

Marianne had developed mixed feeling about Markarth in the five or so days she'd been in the massive stone city. The inn was expensive, costing twenty gold pieces per night which was outrageous. Though she hadn't slept in a stable since she was nearly arrested for it, she actually considered it until she learned about the deadly forsworn that roamed the hills and preyed on those foolish enough to venture outside alone. After she heard that, she decided it would be best to stay inside the city, no matter how much it cost. The forsworn were like bandits, but even more deadly and depraved if that were somehow possible. It was a popular topic among the citizens of Markarth so she'd learned a decent amount about the cannibalistic bandits that roamed the countryside. 

Aside from the forsworn, another dissapointment came in the form of the court mage Calcelmo. Who, just like the mage in Windhelm was far to busy to converse with a studying mage. But it wasn't all bad. It took a few days to learn her target's routine so she could successfully steal their broach and she finished her book on fireballs in the mean time. She was now able to successfully summon a sphere of fire and hold onto it until she intentionally dispelled it. She knew, now that she had the knowledge, she could extend it to the lightening spell once she learned to summon it. 

The broach she'd been sent to steal bore the family crest of the Silver-Bloods. They were the richest, most powerful family in Markarth and aside from having the ruling seat of the Jarl, they damn near owned every building in the city. Even the silver mine, that was at the center of Markarth was named after them. That kind of wealth was unfathomable to Marianne. The closest she ever got to wealth was a trunk full of gold. But she did notice, she fit in a lot better around the more well off residents when she wore the nice things Mercer had given her. It made it all the more easy to get close enough to the Jarl's son without drawing suspicion. 

She reached Riften's market as the sun was dipping behind the city's walls. The stall owners were packing up their belongings as the day was quickly coming to a close. She noticed Wujeeta over by Madesi's jewelry stall, helping him close up and a small smile came to her face at the sight. She didn't know much about Argonian love, but they seemed to be in it and she was proud to have played her part in making it happen, even if she did scam him in the process. Making her way to the graveyard that, thanks to Brynjolf she now knew was littered with dark purple nightshade flowers, a key ingredient in some of his potions, was an easy and familiar trail to follow. Those ever present, purple flowers greeted her and she suddenly felt her pulse increase at the thought of being greeted by a certain Breton with piercing blue eyes. No, time had not dulled her yearning. Not one bit. 

She descended the ladder while keeping a firm grip on the thick book, caged in her left arm and followed the short tunnel til she was greeted by the large cistern. It suddenly occured to Marianne just how much she missed the moist cobblestone ground beneath her feet, the dim candle light and her own bed where she could rest without fear of the next day. With a renewed smile that she couldn't shake, she crossed the damp cistern over to where the two large desks sat and even though the one she was hoping to see occupied was not, a familiar red haired Nord with emerald eyes looked up and smiled at the sight of her. "Welcome back lass. It's about time. We were starting to worry." 

She approached his desk and retrieved the broach from the pocket of her leather pants before handing it over to him. "It was difficult. I wont lie. It took a lot longer than expected to get close enough to the Jarl's son. But I got it done." She said proudly. He held the broach up to one of the candles that sat on his desk to examine it closer in the firelight. "Well done, as usual Mary." He said and she beamed at him before he retrieved a bag of gold and passed it to her. She took it eagerly, happy to make up the loss from the expensive stay at Markarth's inn before she set her fireball spell book on top of Brynjolf's desk, covering his ledger and demanding his full attention. His brows rose, but he patiently waited for whatever she was about to do. Her left hand was already raised and a few seconds later a swirling sphere of flame was summoned in her palm. "What do you think?" She asked him excitedly and he exhaled a laugh.

"I think you're better at this than you let on. You're picking spells up faster than I expected." She smiled widely at the compliment before dispelling the fireball. "So, I was thinking.." She started and tapped her index finger on the emblem of destruction on the front of the spell book she'd placed on his desk. "Since I don't need this anymore, it should join the others on the bookshelf in case someone else does." She said and he gave her a funny look. "Don't you want to resell them? It's still brand new." He said, lifting the front cover as if to inspect the book. "Well, I already spent the gold and I can always do more jobs." She said with a shrug of her shoulders and he shook his head. "Alright, Mary. I'll do just that." He said and lifted the large book from it's place on his desk. 

He must have caught the way her eyes strayed to the empty desk to her right because when she met his eyes again he was fixing her with a look of genuine amusement. "He's not here." He said. "He's out in Ivarstead for a meeting. Though we expect him back tomorrow." A faint blush littered her cheeks at what he told her and she hoped that it wasn't visible in the dim candlelight. "I didn't ask." She said and he exhaled a laugh. "Of course." He said cooly before he turned, focusing his attention on finding a spot for the spell book on the already over crowded bookshelf. With her spell book going to it's new home on the bookshelf and her payment in her hands she made her way over to her bed. 

Knowing she'd probably be in town for a few days, if for no other reason than to rest from the lengthy journey across the province, she abandoned her backpack in the trunk at the foot of her bed and grabbed the book on summoning lightening. The destruction spell books were so lovely. The book itself was black with a border of gold trim and the front of the book featured a raised, handprint emblem with a web of lightening bolts across the palm, the only indication of the books contents. Eager to learn a new spell, she retrieved the large book form the trunk and carried it the short distance to her bed. She kicked her boots off and sat on the bed, crossing her legs for a comfortable position before she opened the thick cover. 

A quick flick of her wrist brought a bright mage light to life in her palm and she willed it to move, so that it hovered just high enough to illuminate the entire book that sat in front of her crossed legs. She would make it through six of the fifty chapters before she would turn in for the night.

When Mercer entered the cistern, he was awash with the very same irritation that had been nagging him for days. 

Longer even, if he was being honest with himself. They hadn't been back in Riften a full day before she left again. And he'd be lying if he said he'd been the same since. She was only doing her job but the sudden absence affected him more than he thought it could. Especially after all the almost two days they spent together. His mind was plagued with thoughts of her. And that want, that carnal desire, it was eating him alive. 

That laugh of hers. Those eyes. That face. It was almost too much. They hadn't been on the road to Shor's Stone more than a few hours when he spilled himself on the forest floor at their first stop like some inexperienced virgin. He thought that would help, make the ride a little more bearable. But then he revealed his magic, and the way her eyes lit up, with that innocent, child-like excitement. The way she looked at him, like she was in awe of him. Too much. Too beautiful. And then she touched him. Her small, delicate hand grabbing for him in her innocent quest to further her knowledge but his thoughts were anything but innocent. 

And when she blushed from his compliments, that tested his resolve the most. He could of had her right then on the forest floor. If it weren't for Delvin and Brynjolf standing close by, he might have considered it. The way she looked at him, with those wide-sapphire blue eyes filled with desire, he could tell she wanted him too. Before, he was hesitant. Because she wasn't Evelyn. She was nothing like the woman he loved and lost. But the way he felt around her was not something he could easily deny any longer. 

An exasperated exhale escaped him as he made his way across the dimly lit cistern to his desk. Brynjolf looked up upon his approach with a curious look on his face. "How did it go?" He asked and Mercer sighed as he tossed his satchel onto the desk. "Nothing." He said as he removed his leather jacket and folded it over the back of his chair. "No one seems to have any information on the symbol. The buyer eludes us for now. But Maven's latest toy stopped me just inside the gates." He said, earning a disgusted look from the Nord that made him smirk. "She wants Honningbrew meadery in Whiterun shut down." He told Brynjolf as he retrieved a few pieces of parchment from his satchel and handed them over to him. Gods forbid the damned woman have the slightest bit of competition in her industry. "I haven't read the specifics, but I'm thinking Vex should be able to get it done." 

He returned to his own desk and began the lengthy process of going over the stack of parchments that had been left on his desk in his absence. His eyes wandered, only to focus on an empty bed across the cistern. Of course they were all empty, but there was only one that mattered. "I picked up your order from the blacksmith." Brynjolf said only to receive a short hum in response. An exhaled laugh suddenly reached his ears. "You seem distracted." The Nord said with just a little too much amusement in his tone. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." He replied with more bite than was necessary. "Oh, well my mistake." Brynjolf said cooly. "I was about to tell you that she returned yesterday, but that information clearly doesn't interest you." 

That had his attention and he looked at the Nord seated at the desk just beside his only to notice the wide smirk on his face as he examined the documents in front of him. "Apparently she's already mastered the fireball spell. Even insisted I take her spell book in case someone else needed it, completely disregarding the fact that she could sell it for at least a good two hundred gold. Odd woman, that one." He said nonchalantly before focusing his attention on the parchments Mercer had given him.

"Where is she?" He asked and a wide smile spread across Brynjolf's face. "I would tell you that she was in the training room, working on her footwork like I showed her, but that information most likely wouldn't interest you either." Brynjolf looked up from his documents and met Mercer's eyes briefly before turning the parchment over to read the text on the back. "Yes, in the training room. All. By. Her-"

The wooden legs of Mercer's chair scraped across the cobblestone ground, a sharp sound in the otherwise quiet cistern as he got up from his desk. The last thing he heard before exiting the cistern was Brynjolf's muted snickering.

When Marianne woke, she decided her mind needed a break. From studying her spell books and from thoughts of Mercer. What better way to accomplish such a task than to enlist the help of a Nord. She approached him and told him a half truth. That the constant studying was wearing on her mind and he suggested sparring. Reluctant to actually spar with the huge Nord, he spent a good hour teaching her which standing positions were best to balance her weight and a few proper strikes she could manage with her dagger. 

Unfortunately, he had a lot of work to do in Mercer's absence and he wasn't able to stay after that, leaving her to practice on her own. Which really was unfortunate since she was a novice when it came to the actual mechanics of it and no one would be around to help her. Cynric was there in the early morning, another Breton that called the guild home. He offered to help her when he came back from a job in Shor's Stone. Which she thought was really kind of him to offer. But, that most likely wouldn't be until the following day. 

She'd just side-stepped an imaginary strike and turned with a flourish of her dagger when her eyes landed on a pair of light blue ones in the doorway. A deep blush pooled in her cheeks at the sight of him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking a little too amused at what he was watching for who knows how long. "Is the air putting up much of a fight?" He asked with a grin and her blush deepened purely out of humiliation. "How long were you there?" She asked, both of her hands wrapped around the grip of her dagger. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile before he answered. 

"Long enough to know you wont get anywhere without proper sparring. Blade up, Marianne." Her eyes widened at his words and the sight of him already crossing the room to where the practice blades were. "I'm not sparring with you, you'll kill me." He exhaled a laugh at that before he turned around, revealing a single dagger in his hand. "Kind of hard to do that with a practice dagger." He said and she realized the edges of the dagger were flat and not sharp at all. She smiled, taking the starting position Brynjolf had showed her while he approached. 

He instructed her to bring her feet closer together and she did. He let her take the lead, undeterred by the fact that she was actually using a blade. But she was sure, she'd never get close enough to him to do any sort of damage. He didn't become the Guildmaster by not being the best. Their blades clashed together loudly again and again in the otherwise quiet room but her own blade did little damage to the blunt edges of the practice dagger. It continued like that for a while til she was panting and sweaty, mean while he still looked completely composed. 

"Don't you have work to do?" She asked him after they sparred for a while. It suddenly occured to her that whenever she saw him in the cistern, he was always working. "How was Markarth?" He asked, ignoring her question. She rolled her eyes at the memory of the massive stone city. "Cold. And all the beds are made out of stone. Which is, so impractical. But I learned a new spell." She told him excitedly and a small smile lit his face. "Let's see it then." He said and she immediately raised her left hand to demonstrate her new spell. The swirling sphere of fire flared to life in her palm and she beamed at him. "Very good, Marianne." He told her while those light blue eyes of his bore into hers. Oh, and he said her full name too, in that voice of his. His praise affected her just as much as it had the first time. A deep scarlet blush sprouted in her neck before it came up to rest in her cheeks. 

A quick move of his hand knocked her blade out of her hand. It clattered and skid across the ground, coming to rest just a few feet away beside one of the straw practice dummies. Her fireball dispelled of it's own accord when she was caught off guard and he fixed her with a wry smirk. "What's your next move, Marianne?" And why did he have to say her name like that again? In a way that that made her insides quiver. 

She bit her lip, weighing her options before she took off, running for the blade only to be grabbed by strong hands and pulled to the ground. She landed on her back, a sharp exhale abandoning her lungs as her hands fell to the cobblestone ground by her head, a mess of brown hair around her. He held himself up on one arm, hovering just above her with his legs outside hers, forming a cage that she couldn't escape from if she wanted to. Though, with the way he was looking at her, with those eyes of his, escaping was the last thing on her mind. 

The cool tip of his practice blade hit the heated skin of her chest where it was exposed just over the collar of her purple tunic. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he spoke next. "Dead." He said and she let out a short laugh beneath him. "Told you, you'd kill me Mercer." She said and she could see genuine amusement glittering in his eyes as he looked down at her. "But you forgot one thing." She told him and he arched a brow. "And what is that?" 

"You're a man. And you've made yourself vulnerable." She said in reference to his spread legs. "Well, that's an easy fix." He said cooly before forcing his knees between her legs, spreading them just enough for them to rest between her thighs. A slight gasp escaped her from the feeling of having him so close to her core. So close to where she wanted him. Her face burned from the blush that sprouted there. He leaned down, til his mouth hovered just above hers and her breathing hitched for it. Coarse stubble covered the expanse of his jaw and she could only imagine how good it would feel moving across her delicate skin. "What's your next move, Marianne?" He asked, his warm breath rolling down her face and neck, striking a blaze in the pit of her belly. 

Her mind was swimming with all things Mercer. Every thought consisted of him and the way he was making her feel. She exhaled breathily before she spoke again. "No move to make." She told him honestly. Not that she'd make one if there was. She would much rather stay where she was on the ground, beneath his strong body and pinned there by his piercing gaze. "I submit." 

His pupils widened in response to her words, exposing his own desire and he abandoned the practice dagger on her chest, his now free hand coming up to her face where he grabbed her chin with his thumb and index finger. "Smart girl." He said, his own voice now husky with need as he leaned down to capture her lips. 

Instead, his lips only brushed against hers in the barest of kisses before Mercer was suddenly called by a frantic voice that sounded very much like Delvin's. He swore and got to his feet, quickly leaving the training room to see what the fuss was about while Marianne continued to lay on the stone floor, panting to catch her breath and a blazing mess of feelings and arousal. 

She had it bad.


	12. Nightshade

When Marianne composed herself, the first thing she did was head right outside for a bit of fresh air. 

A few thieves were gathered in the cistern and she caught the gist of the fuss as she passed. Mercer was there, his hands going to work healing Cynric's leg from the large wound that split his skin. Apparently he was ambushed by a few stray bandits on his way to Shor's Stone. Hearing that as she passed made her need for fresh air all the more intense as the memories forced themselves to the surface of her mind.

She hadn't even known her father was dead until the Leyawiin city guards came to collect her. It was pure chance that his body was found at all and he was recognized. By who, she didn't know. She was too young when it happened and if the guards told her, she forgot. Minor detail. He was killed and left like he never mattered. But he did matter, he mattered to her. Her childhood was ruined when those guards forced her go to the orphanage. They promised her that her father's land would revert to her when she came of age, but they lied. 

That was Marianne's first stop when she left the orphanage. She spent years holding onto a shred of hope that her home would be waiting for her, just as it was left. No matter how empty it was, at least she would have a home. But that hope was crushed the moment she arrived and saw that it was already occupied by another family. Everything that was hers and her father's, everything her mother left behind when she died was gone. Wiped away like none of them ever existed. Even though she was free from the cruelties inflicted on her at the orphanage, the day she finally left, she would remember as one of the worst days of her life. 

She felt bad for not staying back in the cistern with Cynric but he was already surrounded by a group of thieves fussing over him. And though she was getting better with her healing spell, it couldn't hold a candle to Mercer's abilities. No, it was probably better that she left. She sat in the graveyard, as she had a few times before her back against the giant stone mausoleum and her legs crossed in front of her. It was peaceful there and the flowers, the deadly nightshade flowers were so beautiful, surrounding her in a field of purple. She could almost blend right in with the dark purple tunic she was wearing.

She brought her hands together in front of her, til they were but a few inches apart and summoned a ball of fire between them. Her original plan for the day didn't include working on her magic, or thinking about Mercer. But he'd gone and ruined that by showing up while she was training. A deep blush painted her cheeks at the memory. How he looked at her, like she was the only woman worth looking at, it stirred feelings she didn't even know she could have. And though their lips only touched for a second, it was enough for her to know that it was more than just attraction. What it was exactly, she didn't know. But it was something else, something stronger and she knew her feelings for him were genuine.

She dispelled her fireball before she got to her feet and made her way past the many gravestones, past the beautiful purple flowers and out of the gate of Riften's graveyard. It was a nice day for a walk. Clouds blanketed the sky and it looked like rain was coming. She was hoping for rain. That peaceful pattering of water against the ground. It was a comfort unrivalled. Most of her childhood was forgotten in her mind but a few memories stood out. Sitting by the lake while her father fished, whether rain or shine, they were out there more days than not. But those rainy days by the lake were her favorite. The way the rain bounced off the lake as it fell, the soft mist that appeared from the warmth of the day, the blanket of clouds covering the sky. It just felt safe somehow. 

As she walked, she passed a familiar statue. The statue of Talos. The Nordic god. Or a man that became a god somehow. Which sounded incredibly made up to Marianne. Honestly, they all did. She'd never seen any evidence of gods or goddesses in her own life. But if believing in them brought others happiness or comfort, then that was okay in her book. The gods to others, were like the rain to Marianne. 

She found a spot, a little while later. It was a secluded area by the tall walls that surrounded the city. Marianne figured, the safest place to practice with fire, was stone. So she did. Raising her right hand, she summoned the sphere of fire and did her best to apply her knowledge of moving mage lights to fireballs. Difficult was an understatement. For the first hour, as soon as the fireballs got more than six or so inches away from her, it would instantly dispel. The second hour was slightly better, the spheres reaching a few inches closer to the wall before they dispelled. It was a lot more difficult than the novice flames spell. Now that she had mastered that one, flames would freely stream from her palm in whichever direction she willed them. Fireballs were different, but she was slowly getting the hang of it.

Sometime after the second hour she took another break. Having exhausted herself through practicing she contemplated returning to the cistern for food, but she didn't want to be in the way. She'd taken her breakfast at the inn, right before she enjoyed a hot bath so she already had gold on her person. Remembering that, she decided that she would take her dinner at the inn as well. She left her chosen practice spot that she was sure she would use again due to it's all too convenient location and privacy, and made her way through the familiar shaded alleys til she reached the town square. It seemed that Marianne's love of rainy days was not shared by many others. Dozens of would be patrons hovered at and around the various market stalls, their heads shrouded by the hoods of their cloaks in anticipation of the rain. 

It was a light crowd that littered the streets, which made it all the more easy for her to make her way to the inn. Though she soon found out that the inn was packed to make up the difference in population. But that hardly surprised her. This was Skyrim, the majority of the population was made up by Nords. And enjoying spirits was a famed past time of the Nords. By the looks of it, it seemed like they were using the weather as an excuse to start early. With the windows darkened from the cloud covered sky, extra candles were placed all over and she could see everyone had at least one mug of ale or mead in front of them and at least half were singing along to the bard's rendition of Ragnar the Red. 

With a small smile and a shake of her head, she made her way over to the bar where a nice Argonian couple fixed her with a plate of piping hot stew and bread. The vegetables in the stew were strongly seasoned with sage and garlic that made it all the more delicious. She could only imagine how horrid it would turn out if she tried to recreate it herself. She took her time, enjoying her hot meal, which was made much easier by the fact that the brutish song had now ended and was replaced by the gentle strumming of the bard's lute. When she was finished and she stepped out of the inn's door, she as greeted by a gust of cool wind that tossed her hair into a tangled mess behind her and a sprinkling of rain against her face. 

A smile came to her face and she raised on of her hands in time to catch tiny droplets of rain on her palm. It was just starting, but judging by the look of the heavily darkened sky, it would last the full night and possibly then some. She started in the direction of the graveyard, watching the regular citizens of Riften scurry out of the marketplace as she did. A heavy crack of thunder seemed to be all the motivation the stall merchants needed to begin packing up their wares, abandoning the remainder of the shopping day in favor of taking shelter from what promised to be a strong storm. The rain fell heavier as she walked, her hair and clothes absorbing as much of the moisture as they could but she didn't care, it felt good on her skin and reminded her of better times.

Deadly purple flowers greeted her as she entered the graveyard. The star shaped blooms opened wide towards the sky as if welcoming the rain themselves. The now softened earth squished under her boots as she took the short walk from the gate to the mausoleum. Once inside the stone building, she approached the sarcophagus as she had so many times now, only for a strong hand to grab the top of her arm and spin her around. A gasp was torn from her as warm lips crashed against hers. Strong arms already caged her, palms flat against her back, fingers pressing deeply into her skin to keep her there. It took all of two seconds for her to realize who's mouth was against hers and she sank into his kiss, moaning deeply as her small hands grabbed fistfuls of the cotton tunic he wore. A deep groan rewarded her moan and one of his hands left her back to press deeply on either side of her jaw, forcing her lips to part for him. "Mer-"

Her words were cut short as his tongue plunged into her mouth, leading the dance against hers and she welcomed it eagerly, accepting everything he would give her in that moment. His kiss was hungry, desperate even and she reveled in it, surrendering herself to him. His free hand moved to the back of her head, holding her there as his mouth moved against hers. He kissed her breathless, til her head swam from the lack of oxygen before he tore his mouth away from hers only to land on her neck. She panted in his arms, a desperate attempt to make up for the lack of air while he trailed open mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck til he found a suitable spot to close his lips around. And the coarse stubble that covered his own jaw felt even better against her than she could have ever imagined as the sharp scratch of it closely followed the softness of his lips on her skin. Her head fell back, a deep moan escaping her when he began sucking her still wet flesh. She could feel the skin swelling there, the blood raising to just beneath the surface of her skin, no doubt leaving a mark she'd see for days to come. 

He pulled away, only for his forehead to come to rest against hers, his own breathing now just as labored as hers while his light blue eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them. They breathed together while one of her hands roamed the expanse of his warm chest. She could feel his heart, pounding against his chest when her hand hovered there. That erratic beating matching her own in their shared excitement. His cotton shirt was damp from the rain that transferred from her own shirt when he held her close to him. His hand that wasn't holding her came up to grab hers where it was over his heart. He held it firmly against his chest and exhaled a laugh that rolled down her neck. "What?" She breathed before he pulled away, just enough to meet her eyes. 

"I'm doing this backwards." He confessed. "But you left and I really wanted to kiss you." A deep crease planted itself in her brow and he exhaled another laugh when he realized she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "I have something for you." He explained and dug into the satchel she only now realized he was wearing and pulled out a small drawstring leather pouch. She accepted the small bag, the lumpy contents completely undiscernible from the outside. She bit her lip as she stared at the container. The kiss certainly caught her off guard but she definitely didn't expect to be given anything. She met his eyes with a look of almost concern on her face. "Mercer, you didn't have to-"

"Open it." He instructed and reluctantly, she did. She widened the opening as far as the strings would allow and reached into the leather bag to retrieve two finished leather bracelets. Large nightshade flowers were carved into the thick brown leather cuffs and her mouth fell open when she realized what they were for. Her eyes flashed to his and a small smile lit his face. He took them from her and she let him. "Hope they're the right size. You have very small wrists." He said, half joking as he shoved the leather bag back into his satchel and began sliding the first one over her left hand til it came to rest at the base of her wrist. It was the right size, it was perfect and completely covered the scar beneath it. When it was in place he turned her hand over and tightened the laces before tying them in tight knots and removing the extra length with the dagger on his belt. 

He repeated the motion with her right hand and when he was done, she stared at the backs of her now decorated wrists for a long moment, awash with feelings. Some were familiar but others, she couldn't place. She never would have imagined ever receiving anything as nice as these. They were too nice. Each bracelet sported a large nightshade bloom in the center with a smaller one on either side of it. They were beautiful. "Why nightshade?" She asked, finally breaking the silence. He exhaled a laugh and she met his eyes, catching the amusement in them. "Well, it's like you said. All women love flowers and I can think of no better ones for an aspiring mage." 

Her lips parted but before she could speak, he stepped closer only for one of his warm hands to find her face. Those light blue eyes of his bore into hers with such intensity and she suddenly realized, his feelings were just as genuine as hers. He wanted her. Really wanted her. "I can't heal them." He said seriously. "But-"

"You made them pretty." She said whole heartedly, smiling widely. She wished she could say more. To truly express how much she loved his gift. It was amazing beyond words and she wouldn't have to hide behind long sleeves anymore thanks to him. It seemed to be enough though because he returned her smile before he leaned down to capture her lips once more. It was different this time. Slower, but no less passionate and when he pulled away, she was left once again panting for air. Made all the better by the sound of rain pummeling the roof of the mausoleum. "Come with me." He said in that voice she loved so much. That voice that was both rough and smooth and did things to her insides that no voice should be able to do. "Where?" She asked him and watched his eyes darken as he stared back her. "You know where."

They entered Mercer's house by passing through his gated backyard and ascended the stairs that led to the balcony door. Now thoroughly drenched from the short walk in the heavy rain, her eyes widened when they were welcomed by the warmth of the candle-lit manor's second floor. His house was huge and... nice. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel out of place in such a lovely estate. There wasn't a speck of dust to be seen on anything in the large office they were in and since Mercer spent the majority of his time working, it led her to the conclusion that he had hired help. She met his eyes and he gave her a small smile before he grabbed her by the top of her arm, pulling her closer to him and bringing his lips down gently against hers in the barest of kisses. "We're in the wrong room." He said against her mouth, his warm breath rolling down her face and she smiled before she let out a surprised yelp as her legs were swept from beneath her. Her hands clung to his neck while he carried her out of the office and into the room directly across the dimly lit hall. 

The bedroom was even nicer than the office, if that were somehow possible. A small group of candles burned brightly on the top of the large dresser. A few more burned on the window sill, next to the glass that was being pummeled by the heavy rain. He carried her straight to the bed and laid her down on black silk sheets, wet clothes and all. Which earned him a soft laugh. She scooted back to find a more comfortable position while his satchel and boots hit the floor. Her eyes were glued to him as he pulled his blue cotton tunic over his head, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen and her eyes widened at the sight of the man in front of her. He was built strong, hardened muscled covered the expanse of his skin and she couldn't wait to feel it beneath her hands. he looked better than she expected he would and her breathing hitched when one of his knees hit the mattress, causing it to dip under his weight. He pulled her own boots off and tossed them behind himself without a care to where they would land. 

With little preamble, he crawled across the bed til he hovered above her. His own still wet hair dripping small droplets around her face as it fell forward. She made the first move, her small hands grabbing for him and pulling him down and his lips crashed against hers in a hungry kiss. He held himself up with one arm as to not crush her while her hands explored his warm skin. Coarse hairs were scattered across his chest that felt rough beneath her palms and she moaned into his kiss when he firmly pressed his hips into her and she felt a very prominent bulge against her. While she explored him, his free hand roamed the curve of her waist and over her hip til he grabbed a fistful of her purple shirt and pulled it up, exposing the skin of her lower abdomen and her slight muscles there clenched under his touch. He smiled against her mouth at the reaction he received before he tore his mouth away from hers long enough to remove her wet shirt. 

Hungry eyes roamed her form where she lay, half bared to him on the silk sheets beneath her. And she knew, if her own desire wasn't keeping her on that bed, the look he was giving her would be more than enough motivation to stay. His hands worked on her belt, easily undoing the clasp and button of her trousers. He met her eyes, pausing while his hands gripped the rim of her trousers and a deep blush pooled in her cheeks for it. "There it is." He said with a grin and her blush deepened as he went back to undressing her. When her trousers hit the floor, he stood from the bed and she watched as he removed his own and she got her first look at what he was about to put inside her. It wasn't so much the length but the thickness that had her squirming under his stare while one of his large hands wrapped around his already hard cock and began slowly pumping. The sight of it had her moaning and her body clenching from the anticipation alone. 

He stood there beside the bed, fisting his cock while she grabbed fistfuls of the nice sheet beneath her for something to hold on to. "Mercer." She breathed, her arousal on full display in the form of flushed skin and labored breaths. It was torture. That look in his eyes while she was a squirming mess on the bed. How could he be so calm when she was already half out of her mind. "Please." She whined, in a tone she couldn't quite remember using before. It seemed to be enough though because, finally, he joined her on the bed. She grabbed for him, desperate to touch and be touched by him. He took the position he had before with the exception of using his knees to spread her legs, baring her soaking wet core to him. She was so ready for him and all he'd done was kiss and undress her. His lips came down on hers as he pressed his hips into hers and she gasped against his mouth. He pulled back with a smile and she raised her hips, searching for the friction her body desperately needed. She burned for him. Every fiber of her being was waiting, needing to be consumed by him. "Mercer." She said again. This time a plea.

"Have you done this before?" He asked her, his low voice husky from his lust and her face burned from his question but she answered him with a nod. Her hands migrated to his back, feeling the taut muscles there and he smirked down at her. "Good." He said in that same voice of his and just when she thought she was going to get what she wanted most, he plunged a thick finger deeply inside her. A sharp cry was ripped from her at the feeling and she arched herself into him while her nails dug deep enough into his skin to elicit a hiss from the man on top of her. "Fuck, you're beautiful." He ground out as he started pumping the thick digit inside her. She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mind was occupied entirely by the feeling of his hand moving between her legs. His thumb rubbed at her swollen clit and her moans grew louder as she lifted her hips as much as she could, offering herself to him. Another finger joined the one already fucking her and she clenched around them tightly as they curled deep inside her. 

Her breathing was beyond hitched, her head thrown back and eyes glazed from the ecstasy she felt between her legs. "Mercer." She whined. A warning that she was close, her orgasm approaching faster than she would have even thought possible as his hand worked her to completion. "Look at me." He ordered, his voice deep with want and she obeyed, lowering her face and meeting his intense eyes. Those light blue eyes that bore into her, as if seeing her very soul. And she was right there. Right at the precipice as his darkened eyes stared back at her. "Good girl. Now come." 

His words hit her ears and she came undone, crying out as she did. She arched into him, toes curling tightly and nails digging deep into warm flesh as her orgasm ignited a white light behind her eyes, wiping her mind clean of everything but the pleasure she felt. Her every nerve was alive, singing it's praise while wave after wave of pleasured bliss washed over her and when it was over, she was slumped against the mattress breathing heavily as she came down from her high. 

She opened her eyes as Mercer pulled his fingers from her now dripping core, only to watch his lips close around his index and middle fingers, sucking her essence off the thick digits and she moaned at the sight of it. Her lips parted and she breathed heavily as he lifted one of her thighs to his waist. His fingers dipped into her once more and she moaned at the feeling. He pulled away a second later and positioned himself at her entrance. If she burned for him before, now she was a gods damned inferno and he knew it. "Taste yourself." He said and her lips parted in time for the thick digits he fucked her with to plunge into her mouth. She moaned around the fingers she sucked on til a sharp cry was suddenly ripped from her as he roughly buried himself inside her. 

As ready as she was for him, it still hurt. She doubted enough foreplay existed to prepare her for just how thick he was. He filled her completely, forcing her muscles to stretch to their limits to accommodate him. Thankfully, he stilled there, resting his head in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily as she adjusted to him. She felt another pain then, it stemmed from her left bicep and she realized his large hand was wrapped around it in a bruising grip. "You can move." She breathed when it occured to her that he was holding himself back for her sake. His grip tightened and she whined when he slowly drug his cock out of her before sharply snapping his hips back into hers earning a gasp for his efforts. 

That was where his restraint ended it seemed because he set a vicious pace, desperately moving his body against hers and he lifted his head, only to bring his lips down on hers in a bruising kiss. His hand left her bicep to wrap around her hip, pulling her into his every thrust while she let out a constant stream of moans, her fingers clinging to his warm back as she took his vigorous fucking. 

He panted and groaned as he fucked her into the mattress. His every thrust, roughly and painfully stretching her walls around him. But it was the most delicious kind of pain she'd ever experienced in her life and her body was buzzing with pleasure for it. Their lips parted, his name left her lips in a desperate whine and his grip on her hip tightened before he spoke. "Say it again." He demanded in that low voice of his that made her walls flutter madly around him. "Say my name while I fuck you, Marianne." He punctuated his demand with a sharp thrust against her cervix that had her crying out beneath him, clinging to his sweat slickened skin. 

"Oh, Mercer." She whined, her body clenching around him in response to his words. He rewarded her with a deep groan and another sharp thrust. "Again." He ordered and her eyes fluttered as she neared another orgasm. Still, she obeyed his demand. "Mercer. Don't stop." She pleaded, wanting nothing more than for him to once again send her over the edge into that pleasured bliss. His hand abandoned her hip to pry her jaw open, his tongue plunging into her mouth before he groped at what little her chest had to offer. Still, she arched into him, giving him all she could as he continued to snap his hips aggressively into hers. He pulled and teased her nipples til they hardened painfully under his skilled touch. 

Her hands pulled him down and he let her, til the weight of his strong body anchored her to the mattress. The new angle causing his pubic bone to grind against her clit with every thrust and his tongue dove deeper into her mouth, exploring all it could reach as if to stake it's claim and her pleasure only climbed higher for it. His hand abandoned her breast in favor of tangling in her still damp locks before he closed his hand around it in a vice grip. Her scalp sang with pain that shot pleasure straight to her core. He tore his mouth from hers while his hips continued their assault against hers. "Are you going to come for me, Marianne?" He asked her. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide from his own arousal and his voice was low as he spoke through clenched teeth. 

"Yes, Mercer. Yes. Please." She begged desperately as she clung to him. She was right there at the edge while his own movements became even more frantic above her. "Come, Marianne. Come!" He punctuated his words with a sharp yank of her hair and desperately snapped his hips against hers, angled just right to hit her clit each time and she cried out his name as her orgasm exploded through her body, igniting her nerves like lightning. Her vision went white, toes curling tightly as she came undone, her body clenching tightly around the thick cock inside her. Wave after wave of pleasured bliss shot through her and Mercer kept his pace, fucking her through her intense orgasm until he couldn't. His hand shot down to grab himself as he roughly pulled out of her. He buried his face into her chest, groaning her name against her heated skin while he painted the flesh of her abdomen with thick ropes of his warm come. 

It was still raining. The thick droplets harshly connected with the glass of the window, undisturbed by their vigorous coupling but long forgotten while they panted together as they came down from their shared high. Mercer moved to her side, joining her on the silk sheets that would no doubt be painted with stains come morning. He pulled her against his chest and she let him, enjoying the offered comfort of his strong arms wrapped around her. It was quiet for a long moment as they held each other, basking in the bliss of their orgasms. "How was it?" He asked, his voice cutting through the quietness of the room and she suddenly realized that her eyes were closed. "I loved it." She breathed against his skin where she was, half draped over his chest with no inclination to move. 

He exhaled a laugh into her hair before one of his hands found her back, his fingers gliding over her skin and they both fell quiet. The only sound was the heavy rain that used to remind her of happier times. But she'd be lying if she said that this night, wasn't the best one of her life. Yes, she'd been with a man before. But she'd never been with a man like Mercer. The way he touched her. The way he looked at her. Hells, even the way he said her name gave her feelings she didn't even know she could have. Though she now knew she had them. And in this moment, bathed in bliss while she laid in his arms with the peaceful sound of the rain outside, it was everything she didn't know she needed. But now, it was all she wanted. 

Finally, she was happy. Finally, she was safe.


	13. Unrequited

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the bright light pouring in from the window. 

The rain was gone, replaced by a sunny day and she realized it was late. Her eyes scanned the large bedroom to find no trace of Mercer. With no signs of stirring to be heard in the house, she assumed he was already at the cistern working. He was letting her sleep, which she found incredibly sweet since it was the best sleep of her life, wrapped in his arms on the soft mattress, her bare skin caressed by silk and Mercer's warm skin. It was heavenly. 

She stirred and her muscles screamed their protest for it, alerting her to the soreness she felt across her entire body. Mercer was not a gentle lover she discovered but she'd be lying if she said she didn't love everything he did to her. She rose from those lovely silk sheets to gather her clothes which she discovered were now dry, leaving her wondering just what time it was. The room was too nice, now that she wasn't distracted by arousal she could get a good look around her while she dressed. The dresser was large, with a huge mirror that sat on top of it. A silver platter housed six or so pillar candles, the same ones that had been burning the night before but now were long extinguished. 

A closet sat next to it, the finished wood covered in a slight sheen. The handles were a brassy color that complimented the almost red looking wood of the closet. The handles on the dresser drawers sported the same brassy colored metal as well. Across from those, was the bed she'd just slept in with plush pillows and silk sheets. A small bedside table sat on either side of the bed and thick rugs decorated the floor around her that were soft under her toes. A small table sat in the corner, covered in a small stack of books beside a large chair. The cushions were covered in what looked like velvet and she had the sudden urge to check the book titles out of pure curiosity. 

But she didn't because another thought sprouted in her. Reminding her that the room she was in was too nice and without Mercer there, she was suddenly motivated to leave as soon as possible. She approached the mirror to dress herself and her eyes widened at the sight of the bruises that littered her skin. The worst was her left arm and hip, both of which sported a thick bruise that wrapped around them from his tight grip. Her chest was littered with tiny, barely noticeable bruises from where his fingers dug into her flesh around her breasts. Most surprising was the deep purple mark on the side of her neck from when he suckled there. She blushed madly at the sight of it and the realization that it would not be able to be hidden under clothes like the rest of them. And she still felt that soreness between her legs from his forceful fucking, her body reminding her of the night before with each step she took. 

When she finished dressing, she exited Mercer's house the same way she entered, the balcony just outside his home office. As she did, she was once again forced to acknowledge just how nice his house was. She felt almost like she was intruding as she made her way through the quiet house and out the backdoor. After she descended the stairs of the balcony, the first place she headed when she left his fenced in backyard was the inn. She couldn't very well return to the cistern without a proper bath. She desperately needed to clean her hair and body. She was distracted as she walked the cobblestone streets, her eyes focused on the leather bracelets he'd given her. She still couldn't believe they were hers. They were too nice, much nicer than the shirts he'd given her and she didn't even want to think about how much they cost him. She could never repay such a thoughtful gift. A wide smile lit her face when she thought about how much he went out of his way to cover her scars so beautifully. 

The bath was fresh and she melted with a moan when she sank into the steamy hot water. Immediately, it went to work soothing the ache of her muscles and relaxing her. Her eyes fell closed and she rest her head on the rim of the large tub as her mind replayed the memory of the night before and she was once again reminded that she'd never been with a man like Mercer. The way he clung to her after, holding her close to him as she fell asleep in his arms to the sound of the rain was the greatest bliss she'd ever experienced. Nothing could have made it better and she suddenly realized that she missed him. 

She washed her hair and body and continued to soak til the water was lukewarm and her fingers had pruned. When she left the bath and dried herself off, she ran her fingers through her hair dispelling the knots Mercer had caused. It wasn't a proper brushing, but it would do til she could return to the cistern for her brush. Pulling on her same clothes, she left the bathhouse and exited the bustling inn. The sun was high in the sky and just beginning to wane, telling her it was shortly after mid-day. Only a few clouds still lingered in the sky, but they were soft, a fluffy white color. All signs of the heavy rain were gone, the ground once again dry from the heat of the day as she made her way to a now familiar graveyard. 

Those beautiful purple blossoms greeted her upon her approach and she smiled widely as the fingers of her right hand absentmindedly traced the same flowers that were carved into the bracelet covering her left wrist. When she reached the mausoleum, a deep blush pooled in her cheeks at the memory of Mercer's mouth against hers from their first real kiss. Her fingers pressed the button on the sarcophagus, causing it to slide back and reveal the hidden entrance to the guild. The blush stayed firmly in place as she descended the ladder and passed through the dimly lit tunnel that led to the cistern. He was there, she was sure and the thought of seeing him again after the previous night had her pulse going wild and blush deepening. 

Her eyes spotted him and Brynjolf immediately at their respective desks and she made her way across the cistern to his desk. She didn't have anything planned to say, but surely she should say something after the night they shared together. He was frowning, she realized when she approached. It was a look she hadn't seen in a long time and her brow creased for it. "Is this a bad time?" She asked when he didn't look up from the letters in front of him. He must have heard her approach, it would be hard not to with the way her footsteps echoed around the cistern from the way her leather boots connected with the damp cobblestone beneath her feet. 

He didn't look up from the letters in front of him but she noticed the way his jaw tightened, like he was irritated. "I have work to do." He said coldly, so much so that genuine confusion washed over her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Brynjolf turn in his seat. The old wood of his chair creaking as he did. He must have also picked up on the coldness of Mercer's tone. Was he upset with her? Did he not want her to sleep in his bed? He could have told her so or woken her up if that was the case. "I don't understand." She confessed while her mind reeled, trying to pinpoint something she had done wrong. It was her, she was sure. Brynjolf's reaction told her that he was fine til she showed up. "Have I offended you?" She asked him, her voice wavering as she did. If he told her what the problem was, she could fix it. "I said I have work to do." He repeated, that same coldness littering his tone. "I'm sure Delvin has something for you to do as well." 

"I don't understand." She said again. "Last night was-"

"Sex. Nothing more." He said, his words cutting deep into her chest like the sharpest of blades. Her lips parted, her expression morphing into one of pain at what he was saying. "What did I do?" She asked him, tears stinging her blue eyes as she did. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It couldn't be true. Not with the way he looked at her. The way he touched her. It had to mean something. Last night had to mean something. 

He still hadn't looked at her, only stared at the documents in front of him like she wasn't right there in front of him. He released an exasperated exhale before he spoke again. "There's nothing you did or did not do. It was just sex." He ground out in a low voice, the words twisting themselves inside her, hurting her. "But I thought... I thought your feelings were genuine?" They had to be. It couldn't have meant nothing to him, when it meant everything to her. That would be an unfathomable cruelty. It just couldn't be true. He met her eyes then and she saw nothing but coldness there. 

"You were mistaken, Mary." He said and her mouth fell open, a choked sob ripped form her at the revelation. And the way he said her name, he never called her that before. That was it, the final twist of the blade of his words in her chest and tears fell from her eyes as she suddenly took off, her feet carrying her as fast as they could across the cistern to her bed. The trunk at the foot of her bed housed her backpack and she grabbed it, letting the lid slam loudly, echoing around her before she ran from the cistern as fast as her feet could carry her. Far away from him and the cruelty he just inflicted on her heart. 

It was quiet in the cistern for a long moment. But Mercer was no fool, Brynjolf had bore witness. Right now he was just waiting for what he was sure was coming, enduring the feeling of his eyes boring into him. He didn't have to wait long, because a moment later the Nord spoke up. "You're not going to explain what in Oblivion that just was?" He asked and Mercer could feel the bite in his tone. He released a deep exhale before he spoke again. "I can't do it, Brynjolf." He said with a shake of his head. 

He'd come to that conclusion last night, as she lay in his arms, sleeping peacefully from the effects of his efforts. But his thoughts were anything but peaceful as he stared at the already forming bruises on her fair skin. He never slept, just stared at her beautiful face and body wrapped in the silk of his sheets while she slept against him. It hit him, as the bruises started to deepen into their final color that she was too fragile. The word appeared in his mind and he couldn't shake it. She was breakable. Too delicate for this world. She didn't stand a chance to survive and he just couldn't do it again. 

"Do what, exactly?" The Nord pressed and Mercer scoffed before shooting him a glare. "Evelyn was strong. She was a fighter. She killed at least a dozen men and it still didn't keep her from being murdered in cold blood. Marianne is weak. It's only a matter of time until she's dead too." He spent the night accepting that fact, Brynjolf would see the truth of his words eventually. He turned his attention back to the same letter he'd been re-reading for the last hour, still without retaining any of the information it held. The words seeming almost incomprehensible in his clouded mind.

Brynjolf shot him a look of genuine disbelief even though he couldn't see. "You can't compare them. That's not fair to either of them. And you know damn well she is not weak." The Breton ignored him, his blue eyes scanning the lines of text in the letter. "You're turning down a chance at happiness because you're scared." He told him and Mercer met his eyes, that same coldness reflecting in the pools of light blue.

"I can't get attached again." He said only for Brynjolf to scoff loudly. "Isn't it a bit late for that?" He threw his hand up, his irritation on full display. "And what about her? You're breaking her heart to spare yours." 

"She'll get over it in time." He said, turning his attention back to the letter in his hand. The elbow of his free arm came to rest on the top of his desk and he rest his forehead against his open palm. Brynjolf exhaled a laugh though there was no humor behind it. "Are you sure about that? You saw her face, Mercer. You crushed her." Mercer's hand came down hard on the desk and the candlesticks wobbled for it, the flames flickering from the sudden jostling. His now angry eyes found Brynjolf's and the Nord was shaking his head, his disappointment clear on his face. "I'm telling you. It's the wrong move." 

"It's already done." He said, his tone absolute. It was done before she even came to the cistern. Once he decided, that was it. His mind was made up. Brynjolf's hand found his hair in his frustration. "So go undo it!" He yelled, throwing his hand out in the direction of the door that led to the bar. His shout echoed around the empty cistern but landed on deaf ears. Mercer just shook his head. "I can't."

She made her way to the underground bar as fast as her feet would carry her. Her vision was blurry from the tears that flowed freely, streaming down her face. When she entered the bar, her eyes found Delvin at his usual table and she all but ran to him, ignoring the heads that turned toward the sound. He looked up at her hasty approach, his eyes immediately filling with concern at the sight of her broken expression. "Mary, are you-"

"I need a job." She said, voice breaking as she did. Anywhere he sent her was fine, she didn't care if she had to go all the way to Elsweyr. As long as it took her away from him. He opened his mouth in what looked like a protest and she shook her head. "Please." She said as fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. His wandered, zeroing in on her neck and she suddenly remembered the mark there. The mark he put there. She suddenly felt sick and her hand shot up to cover it. "Please." She repeated and finally, he relented with a sigh. "Alright, Mary let me see what I've got." He said while he dug into his jacket. And why did she suddenly hate the sound of her own name? 

A moment later he retrieved two folded papers and handed them over. She took them without a word before she left, taking the long way. She'd never once gone through the alternate entrance but she'd rather die then go back through the cistern. The alternate route was pretty straight forward, a lot of turns but there was only one way to go and she lit her way with her magelight to make up for the lack of light between the dim torches. There was no one else in the tunnels, unsavory or otherwise and she was thankful for that. Both because she was alone and that she was still crying her eyes out. It didn't take too long, ten minutes or so and she was greeted by the bright light of day as she pushed the final door open and found herself on a dock on the lower part of the city. 

She'd been down there only once before. She accompanied Brynjolf to the apothecary's shop for a satchel of nirnroots. They were hard to come by so Brynjolf acquired them the old fashioned way for his potions. She crossed the wooden landing and ascended the stairs that led to the town square. She suddenly realized how happy everyone around her looked. Stall owners and patrons alike, everyone seemed to have some measure of a smile as she passed them on her way to the gates. Everyone except Marianne. 

Marianne was miserable. And stupid, she realized. She was beyond stupid for falling for the same trick again. She should have known better, learned her lesson better after the first time. But no, Mercer showed up with those eyes of his and he gave her flowers. And in return she gave him her body. She knew damn well people didn't give things away for free. Maybe he was right about what he said when they first met. Maybe she really was a whore. And now, because of her own stupidity, she was left to suffer with these feelings while he went on to live his life. Already on to the next woman. It wasn't fair.

She reached the carriage by the stables and finally unfolded the notes to see where he was sending her. Whiterun. The trading capitol of Skyrim. Not far enough but she doubted any measure of distance would be far enough to take her away from her mistakes. The driver was kind enough to ignore her tears as she paid him for passage and boarded the cart. Once she settled in, the cart began moving and she stared dejectedly at the flowers that decorated her wrists. 

A wave of self-loathing washed over her as she rode in the carriage. How could she let this happen again? Was she really that stupid? No one cared about her before, why would she expect someone to start now? It wasn't like she'd done anything to deserve it anyway. She wasn't special. She wasn't strong. She was a thief with no other skills who could barely wield a blade to defend herself. If she died tomorrow, no one would care. No one would look for her. She didn't matter. Just like her father, if she died too, she wouldn't matter. 

It was a very long ride to Whiterun.


	14. Enchanting

The altar came alive, glowing brightly from the gem offered to it. The symbols lit up around the dagger placed in the center of them. The light of the soul gem faded, only to be transformed into a bright green glow that embedded itself like a sheen that coated the blade of the barely sharpened iron. Two months ago, she would have smiled proudly at the sight of a successful enchantment. But, two months ago she was a happier person. No. So far, time had done little to stem her bleeding heart. Instead, her sadness morphed into an almost empty feeling.

"Well, if conjuring doesn't work out, you could always apply to the college as an enchanter." Farengar said as he looked over her shoulder at her creation. No smile came to her face at his praise, only the same blank look that she'd worn since the day she finally dragged herself out of her bed at the Drunken Huntsman inn. The first day she cried. The second day she laid there in her rented bed feeling sorry for herself. But she knew deep down, self pity wasn't going to learn the spells for her. So finally, on the third day, she forced herself to get up, take a bath and get to work.

The item she'd most recently been sent to steal had already been acquired and was stowed away beneath a particularly loose floorboard under her rented bed. The job had been done for days now, but Farengar was kind enough to lend her access his alchemy and enchanting tables whenever she was in Whiterun. Which was more often than not now since the majority of her jobs had been in Whiterun lately and she jumped at the opportunity to further her knowledge. Briefly, she mourned the loss of her books on lightening and advanced healing. But she had absolutely no intentions of ever going back in the cistern, for books or otherwise. Her time in Riften's underground was now significantly cut down to brief encounters with Delvin at the bar. 

But, working so much was beginning to pay off. It was slow going since she had to pay for a bed and meal each night but the number was steadily climbing. Especially since her small hands found their way into more than a few unsuspecting pockets. She had a good three hundred gold now, despite shelling out two hundred to Farengar for a couple of old spell books he had laying around for the better part of a decade. One was a thick tome on novice conjuring, at his insistence. He thought it would be best for her to expand her knowledge to the different schools of magic in case she picked one up better than the others. He'd been right and she was more than thankful for him guiding her to do it. The second, a book of alchemy that, coupled with the stone mortar and pestle in her backpack kept her up late most night experimenting with the different combinations of ingredients. "Thank you, Master Farengar." She said, in that same monotone her voice had fallen into. 

"Although," He said and she caught the amusement in his tone. "If you plan on continuing to use my enchanting table, you're going to have to start supplying your own blades." That was fair enough. Until now he allowed her free reign over his petty soul gems and iron daggers, all too excited to have a hand at training a young mage. She must have grown on him because he'd become a lot more welcoming to her over the past two months. Still, he would not take her as a student, but she was still encouraged to come by at her leisure.

She picked up the newly enchanted dagger to examine it. The enchantment worked perfectly and the green glow covered the length of the blade and would drain the stamina of anyone she cut with it. Not that she had a plan to. "I can do that." She said, agreeing to his terms. She heard a light clinking of metals and turned to the sound. Farengar was no longer behind her, he'd crossed the room and gathered the last five daggers she'd enchanted before he returned. He held his hand out expectantly and she handed over the last one. He took them to a large glass display case and a pang of jealousy shot through her watching the swish of his robes as they skimmed across the wooden floor. 

She knew she was well on her way, especially now from all the knowledge Farengar had lent her but she knew she was still a long way from being a true mage. She imagined, those at the college probably had a lot of know how before they sought entry, she didn't want to risk showing up a complete novice only to be turned away. After all, why would they help her if she couldn't help herself. So she worked, and practiced and did everything in her power to not let her thoughts wander to painful memories.

"I expect you'll be off soon." Farengar said as he closed the lid of the glass case with careful movements. She nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Yes, back to Riften." She told him and he faced her with a smile. "To help your uncle at his potion stand a bit more." He said and she nodded once more. It was the easiest way to explain her frequent trips to the large city in the Rift. It wasn't a complete lie, she had helped him a few times. A half truth was a good way to go, she decided. "I'm sure he'll be proud of the progress you've made in your alchemical studies." He went on and she moved to the large wooden table where her belongings sat, untouched for the past few hours. "Perhaps." She said. He probably would be if she told him, Brynjolf was always praising her accomplishments. 

It was hard being around him so she avoided him. On her first few trips back to Riften, the only thing he seemed to want to talk about was exactly what she didn't. So she avoided him and eventually, he gave her space. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss him. Farengar was knowledgeable, but his advice was strictly bound to the magical realm. Brynjolf knew a little bit about everything as far as Marianne could tell. And he was her friend. Her first real friend since Shani. A wave of pain washed over her as she suddenly realized just how much she missed her Nordic mentor and she donned her backpack before scooping up the thick tomes which looked almost comical in her small arms. "I have to go." She said, hurrying for the door and the last thing she heard before it closed behind her was Farengar calling after her to brings blades next time. 

The trip back to Riften took less time than it usually did. But perhaps that was just because she was almost eager to return instead of completely dreading it. It was now toward the end of Last Seed and she could see the faint beginnings of the leaves changing. Little slivers of gold dotted the trees and she couldn't help but find them beautiful. She couldn't wait to see what they looked like when they fully changed color and fell, blanketing the ground in a field of gold. A beautiful sight she was definitely looking forward to. 

As the carriage approached the stables in the afternoon, she couldn't help but notice it was full of horses and merchant carriages and she wondered if there was something special going on she didn't know about. When she exited the carriage wearing her own green cotton tunic and blue vest, the only clothes that had been in her backpack at the time she grabbed it in the cistern, she headed straight for the gates. The guard's coin purse was near bulging and she wondered how many of the merchants he was able to scam before they entered the city. He didn't try it with her though, fully recognizing her by now and let her pass without question. 

Once inside the familiar bustling city, her first stop would have to be the inn. After she ditched the heavy tomes and full backpack she could make her way to see the blacksmith. Riften was the safest place to purchase the daggers she needed since she frequently visited. So she made her way through the cobblestone streets while clutching her large books carefully in both hands. It was automatic, the way her eyes instantly rolled when she stepped through the wooden door of the inn only for the sound of the ever famous Ragnar the Red song to reach her ears. Whiterun's taste in music was slightly more varied and she was beyond thankful for that. 

Once her room had been purchased for the night, she left the majority of her things on her bed before she exited the room and locked it with the large iron key. Which she then safely tucked into the pocket of her pants just beside the seal ring she'd been sent to retrieve from a very unsuspecting and wealthy redguard man. With her sleeping arrangements for the night secured, she left the inn through the door that opened up directly into the marketplace. Her eyes strayed and she saw that familiar mop of auburn hair. He was over at his stall, wearing his best clothes and holding up one of the vials he reserved for his specialty potions while a wide eyed young man looked on eagerly. She couldn't hear what the Nord was saying to the Imperial man, but by the look on his face it was working. 

A small smile came to her face at the sight. Her first one in how long? But it was inevitable, if she allowed herself to be around Brynjolf for any measure of time he would definitely put a smile on her face. Maybe that was what she needed. She definitely didn't want to feel the empty, hollowness anymore. She would make it to the blacksmith eventually, but for now, her feet carried her to the potion stall. The Imperial patron was just walking away, now the happy owner of a specialty potion when she approached. He didn't see her since she approached from the side of his stall. He was pouring his attention into the drawer full of gold, clearly a profitable day for the smooth-talking Nord. 

Raising her dominant hand, she tapped her index and middle fingers on his shoulder, immediately gaining his attention. He looked over and she could see the look of pure surprise on his face and in his emerald eyes when he realized who was standing in front of him. The sight of him in front of her sent a rush of emotions through her. She threw her arms around his middle, clinging to the large Nord who's own arms wrapped around her in a desperate embrace. He held her tightly against him, his warmth seeping into her heart and she felt safe there in his arms. After spending the majority of her time avoiding him and Riften whenever possible for the past two months, it felt like coming home. 

"I missed you." She admitted into his chest. The fine buttons of his fancy jacket pressed into the skin of her cheek while she clung to him. He exhaled sharply against her hair at her confession. "Missed you too, lass." He said in that smooth voice of his. "Don't bring it up." She told him without meeting his eyes. "I'm not ready." While she missed Brynjolf, he had to know her boundaries. That topic was off limits and would be for as long as her heart ached at the memory. "I wont." He promised and she held him tighter for it. 

When they parted she hopped up on one of the storage crates behind his stall while they caught up. She told him she'd been studying alchemy and enchanting and her heart swelled when he praised her for it. "I told him you're my uncle." She said in reference of her many conversations with Whiterun's court wizard. He barked a laugh at that before he spoke next. "Through marriage I hope." Definitely through marriage, since there was no way she could pass for a Nord with her small stature and Brynjolf was huge, he couldn't pass for anything but a Nord. 

"You married my aunt." She said proudly, already in a better mood just for being around him. "And you were just so beside yourself with her passing that you could no longer keep up with the potion stall by yourself. It worked cause I got a great discount on the books he sold me. They're old, but I got them for next to nothing considering what they are."

"Well done, lass." He said and she beamed at him. When the afternoon finally waned, she helped him pack up his wares for the day. As he was locking the crate that housed his merchandise it suddenly dawned on her that she still had to visit the blacksmith and quickly bid him goodbye before making her way over to the large forge and shop nestled just beside the wooden stairs she was now so familiar with. Later on, those stairs would lead her to the underground bar. But for now, she had another kind of business to take care of. There was a single man at the forge, looking like he was packing up for the day. She hurried over, hoping to catch him before he finished.

"Is it too late to place an order?" She asked him when she stepped under the wooden awning that protected the forge from the elements. He was in the middle of rolling a thick stack of leather up when he met her eyes. He was a Nord, just like Brynjolf, just like the majority of the citizens in Skyrim. But he was much shorter than her mentor and bore absolutely no resemblance with his short brown hair and brown eyes. Though she could tell by the defined muscle in his arms that was exposed by his sleeveless tunic, that he was still very strong. 

He looked young, but definitely had a few years on Marianne's twenty three winters. He was a nice looking man, there was no denying that. But that was the very last thing on her mind. "I can come back tomorrow." She offered when he didn't say anything and he held a hand up to stop her. "No, no, it's okay." He assured her before wiping his dirty hands off on the green fabric of his sleeveless tunic. A small smile lit her face at that and she started explaining what she wanted. At least eight iron daggers. The court wizard had plenty of petty soul gems for her to use. Apparently, most of the small game was brought into the palace alive, caught by traps for the very purpose of filling the wizards gems before they were killed. She suspected, that wizard could get away with anything if he claimed it aided him in his work for the Jarl. 

He told her he could have them done in two days time. Which she found impressive but he assured her that iron was very easy to work with. He scribbled her order down on a piece of parchment with a short stick of charcoal. Which he got all over his hands but he was either used to it from his line of work or he didn't care. Probably a bit of both. When he was done, he looked up with a smile. "Alright, I just need a name for the order." He said from behind kind brown eyes. He seemed like a nice man, but she'd been fooled too many times by eyes. He could be as wicked as a dremora for all she knew.

"Anne." She said immediately, giving him the same alias she'd been using in her travels. It wasn't a complete lie, it was part of her name. He smiled again and wrote it down. "Alright, Anne. I'll get started on them first thing tomorrow." He said while holding his hand out and introducing himself as Halof. She shook his hand to be polite and with her order now placed, she left the forge and took the familiar wooden steps that would lead her to the lower level of the city. With the sun just dipping behind the city's walls and streaks of red and orange painting the sky, she made her way underground. It was time to head back to the guild. 

The seal ring she'd been sent to steal had been in her possession for days and now that she was back in Riften, she was eager to be rid of it. She never liked the idea of hanging onto evidence. Before she was an employed pickpocket, she always made it a point to get rid of evidence at the first opportunity to do so. Evidence talks and that's exactly why it was so easy to frame the male Dunmer in the market with the ring she'd stolen from Madesi. 

Once she made her way through the tunnels and pushed the large door open that separated her from the underground bar, she was immediately greeted by the sounds of loud music and the strong smell of mead. Dozens of torches lined the walls, illuminating the large space. She spotted Delvin immediately at his usual table and he was already joined by Brynjolf. Another small smile came to her face as she passed the few people dancing, spotting Sapphire there. The half Nord was dancing in some very Khajiit dance moves beside a familiar Imperial man. A slight wave of jealousy washed over Marianne at the sight but she forced those thoughts away as she approached Delvin's table. He looked over at her approach and fixed her with a smile. "Brynjolf told me you were back. Bout time, Mary." He said playfully. 

She dug into her pocket to produce the seal ring and set it on the table in front of him. "Nazeem is an ass. You don't know how difficult it was to stay in his presence long enough to steal it. I'd rather eat hot coals than speak to him again." She said bitterly and crossed her arms against her chest. She hated that man. He talked down to her, like she wasn't worth the dirt under his precious fancy boots. And Marianne was about fed up with people that made her feel that way. Delvin laughed at her complaint before holding the seal ring up to the candle that burned brightly at his right to examine it.

"Stay for a drink, lass?" Brynjolf offered and she shook her head as she met his eyes. "Sorry. I have books to read." 

"Here you go, luv." Delvin said and she looked over to see him already holding a bag of gold and a piece of paper out for her. She took the offered items and unfolded the paper before a deep crease appeared in her brow. It was a pickpocketing job in Riften. "Don't you have anything else?" She asked him and he was giving her a blank look when she met his eyes. "Not currently. Unless you want to do a numbers job." He said but she had no experience with those. Taking something off someone while they were distracted was leagues different from changing numbers in a shop owners personal ledger. Sapphire was the best for that and Marianne had no desire to try. She'd stick to pickpocketing, even if it kept her in Riften. "No, I'll do it." It was just as well, she had to stick around long enough to get her daggers anyway. "Good." Delvin said before taking a swig of his mead.

"I'm working the stall tomorrow." Brynjolf said suddenly, earning her attention. "You're welcome to join me." With nothing else to do besides reading to fill her time, she might as well. The job she got from Delvin seemed easy enough. Bracelets, the fancy jeweled ones anyway, were easy to steal because of the way their closures were set up. "Alright." She said with a small smile before she turned to leave. "Tomorrow then."


	15. Daggers

Marianne was sitting on Brynjolf's storage crate, just behind his potion stall while she took a break from selling his latest specialty potion. A piece of bread and cheese she'd been munching on sat on the wooden surface beside her but completely forgotten as she stared at the open palm of her right hand. The sleeve of her dark blue tunic had fallen away from her wrist to reveal the thick leather bracelet decorated in deadly flowers that covered her skin. Brynjolf was dressed in his finest and leaning against his stall, patiently waiting to see her latest trick. 

The sky was littered with tiny clouds that promised rain later in the day. A light breeze caused Marianne's brown locks to dance around her while the center of her palm took on an opaque purple glow that swirled and obscured the item she was summoning. The purple glow faded and her hand was now wrapped around the handle of a dagger. It too was purple and looked almost transparent, though it would cut just as deep as any sharpened blade she was sure. Her eyes found Brynjolf's emerald ones and his brows were raised in surprise. "I'm impressed. Well done, lass." He said and she beamed at him. "I can summon something bigger," She started before taking a quick look around the bustling marketplace. "but, I don't think your customers would appreciate it." She said and he snorted a laugh.

"You learned that quickly." He said and she rolled her eyes. "I still can't throw a fireball. Every time it gets a few feet away it just disappears. I learned to summon the dagger in only a few days. Of course the school of magic I have the best success with is the one that's the most frowned upon." It was just her luck. She learned real quick while practicing under a particularly lovely pink flowered tree back in Whiterun that most folk don't appreciate things appearing out of thin air, especially wolves. The two children that passed, loved it. But their mother quickly scurried them away, scolding them that magic users weren't to be trusted. It reminded Marianne of when she was in the orphanage and how she was punished for using magic. So much so that she was permanently scarred from it. Not to mention the hit her magical abilities took from not being used for years. And she couldn't help but hope, for those children's own sake, that neither of them bore any magical abilities.

Her eyes went to her hand that was still wrapped around the summoned dagger and a few seconds later it dispelled, falling away from her hand in a translucent purple smoke that quickly dissipated. "Could you summon a bed?" He asked suddenly and she met his eyes and saw the amusement there. "Say you were tired," He went on. "and you were in the woods. Could you summon a bed to sleep in?" She fought the smile but lost in the end and smiled widely at his teasing. "Maybe." She said with a shrug. "If I practiced, I don't see why not. Though, I would pity whichever daedra got summoned from Oblivion for the sole purpose of being slept on. Imagine him explaining that one to his peers." She told him before suddenly remembering her snack and she scooped up the fresh bread she purchased. She bit off a mouthful. It was baked with garlic inside, giving the bread a delicious flavor. 

"You really yanked one of those fuckers out of Oblivion just now?" Brynjolf asked and she nodded. "Mhmm." She hummed before swallowing the bite of food. "You just concentrate on what shape you want them to take, but they're just low level demons. I couldn't imagine the amount of skill it would take to summon something really powerful."

"You just pulled a dagger out of thin air and you don't think that's powerful?" He asked incredulously and she shrugged. "Well, stronger mages-" 

"Don't compare yourself to anyone else, lass. Two months ago, you couldn't summon anything. Now you can. That, is what matters." He said with a smile and her expression melted into one of awe for it. As always, his words struck a chord deep in Marianne. Brynjolf always knew what to say to make her feel better and not once did he ever judge her. Her summons didn't bother him like they had the woman in Whiterun. None of her magic bothered him, he encouraged her studies.

It hit her that the choice to come back to Riften was the right one, despite her still bleeding heart. She suddenly realized that her Nordic mentor meant more to her than a friend. He was the family she didn't have, but always wanted. A deep crease planted itself in her brow while she watched the index finger of her right hand trace the rough edge of the crate she sat on. The realization that she loved him hit her like a sack of cabbages and she suddenly had the urge to tell him. "You know, Brynjolf. My family's gone, but..." 

He exhaled a laugh before he stepped closer, til he was right in front of her and she looked up, meeting his emerald eyes with her own deep blue ones and she saw genuine affection there. "Oh, come now lass. You'll always have your uncle." His words were teasing but his expression said it all. She hopped off the crate and threw her arms around his middle in another embrace. She had a home. Except it wasn't a farm by a lake or a man that stole her heart only to destroy it. Her home was a tall Nord with auburn hair and emerald eyes. Her home was Brynjolf. 

When they parted, she resumed her former position on the top of the crate and finished the rest of her lunch. Brynjolf was leaning against his stall and pulled a flask of what was most likely some form of alcohol off the shelf that sat below the drawer housing his earnings for the day. She watched as his eyes scanned the marketplace before he took a swig from the brown bottle. "Why are you hiding that?" She asked him around a mouthful of cheese. 

"Some of the guards get pissy if they see alcohol in the market. Even if it's a Nord drinking it." He shot her a playful look and she responded with a look of mock offense as her hands found her hips. "That should be considered criminal. It's downright rude to deprive a Nord of his spirits." She said and he snorted a laugh. "Aye." He agreed. 

"Anne." Marianne looked over to to the sudden voice to her right and she was met with kind brown eyes. "Halof." She said, recognizing the blacksmith she'd met the day before and hopped off the crate she'd been sitting on, her leather covered feet connecting with the cobblestone ground beside Brynjolf. He was wearing another sleeveless tunic, this time a brown one and a small part of her mind wondered if that was a common occurrence for him. It probably was, since he spent the majority of his time leaning over a pit of fire. 

"Anne?" Brynjolf asked with an obvious question in his voice and she elbowed him in his side without looking at him. "Was there a problem with my order?" She asked him, her face full of confusion at the sight of him. "No, it's finished actually. My father was ill but he's returned to the forge so I was able to get them all done today. I just thought I should let you know in case you wanted to pick them up sooner." He said and her face lit up in a smile at the good news. He was fast at his trade, she'd give him that. She might just become a regular customer of his. "Great, I'll come get them now." She said and he gave her a kind smile. 

"You can come out now." Brynjolf said, his tone full of amusement as he watched the young, brunette Breton he'd grown so fond of be led to the forge by the young blacksmith. 

Mercer scoffed from behind him. "I was hardly hiding, she just didn't see me." He said and the Nord snorted a laugh. "Of course." He responded, not believing him for a second. "How was your meeting?" He asked him and Mercer sighed. "Nothing yet. Whoever bought goldenglow and Honningbrew are covering their tracks well. But they'll slip up eventually." He said and Brynjolf nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the pair across the market. Marianne was examining a small iron dagger with a smile on her face. And that boy, the way he was looking at her, he was damn near smitten. 

"How is she?" Mercer asked, cutting through Brynjolf's thoughts and he sighed. "Heartbroken." He admitted. And Brynjolf was glad she accepted his invitation to sell potions with him, because he wanted nothing more than to put a smile back on her face. The sight of her sadness, those first few trips back to Riften cut straight into his heart and he was helpless to help her as long as she avoided him. He saw a lot of himself in her. Maybe it was the fact that they were both orphans that turned to stealing to make it in the world, but she really had become like family to him. More so than the guild itself and he was more than proud to claim her as his niece. "Though, it looks like you might get your wish after all." He said.

"And what wish is that?" Mercer asked while Brynjolf continued to watch the Breton. It looked like she was deep into a conversation, talking animatedly with her hands as if creating a picture for the man. Marianne could talk once you got her going and he seemed to have done just that. "For her to get over it." He said plainly. "She's still alive.. and I have to wonder. What would be worse? To lose her like you lost Evelyn? Or to lose her to another man?" Marianne looked up from the blade in her hands to give the blacksmith a smile. He knew she was still hurting, could see it on her face when her thoughts began to stray. She still wanted Mercer, but he had no doubt that boy could win her over if he was patient enough. 

A few seconds of silence passed before Mercer's angry exhale reached his ears. "She comes with us to Windhelm." He said, his tone biting. Brynjolf smiled even though his Breton companion couldn't see. "She'll never agree to that." 

"Then make her agree." He snapped before he left, his anger apparent in the way his boots connected with the cobblestone beneath his feet. 

"Are you going into battle?" Halof asked, while she looked over the many iron blades she requested and she smiled before selecting one from the table in front of her to examine up close. It was finely crafted, as far as she could tell and heavily sharpened. "Definitely not. I can barely wield one. These are purely for enchanting purposes." She told him before she delved into her explanation of how the process went. How to arrange the gems and blades and the placement of the runes on the altar. The incantation was long, but if done right it worked flawlessly. Halof, she discovered, was a good listener. He just let her keep talking until she was finished and genuinely seemed interested in what she was saying.

"That sounds a lot more complicated than swinging a hammer all day." Halof admitted and Marianne shot him a look like he'd lost his gourd. "Are you jesting? These are so nice." She told him whole-heartedly with a smile as she looked over the lone dagger she held. "I could never make anything as nice as this. You have a real skill." She said and he scoffed. "Last I heard, enchanting was definitely a skill." He said and she looked up from the dagger in her small hands to beam at him. 

"You mean, you're not one of those Nords that's scared of magic?" She asked him and he smiled, his kind brown eyes lighting up in amusement before he responded. "You don't seem so frightening to me." He said and she rolled her eyes. "Tell that to the citizens of Whiterun." She muttered, crossing her arms against her chest and he laughed. 

With her approval secured, he wrapped the daggers in thin leather before placing the lot of them in a woven sack for her to carry. Which she was thankful for, since carrying an armful of heavily sharpened iron didn't exactly sound very appealing to Marianne. Her own dagger wasn't even as sharp as these. Though, now that she could summon a dagger on command, it pretty much rendered the one on her belt useless. When she had paid him, less than she'd been expecting to but he assured her that iron was cheap to come by and very easy to work with, she gathered the heavy sack and made to leave. 

"I have to ask, before you leave." He started while reaching for a rather sturdy looking mug that was half filled with what looked like water. But he was a Nord, she honestly wouldn't be surprised to learn it was actually mead. She met his brown eyes and saw nothing but kindness staring back at her. "I wondered if you might want to have a drink with me tonight. At the inn." He said and an immediate frown came to her face while he brought his drink to his lips. 

"I am not sleeping with you." She said bitterly and he choked on his drink. He coughed and sputtered before fisting his chest to recover from his complete surprise at her words. He fixed her with a look of complete shock. "What?!" He asked, voice raw from coughing and she gave him an unimpressed look. She tossed the heavy sack of iron daggers on the table before crossing her arms. "I said-"

"I know what you said." He quickly told her while holding a hand up to stop her from going any further. "I guess I'm wondering ..why?" He asked, holding his arms out like he had no idea how she came to that conclusion. 

"Well, why else would you invite me for a drink?" She asked him plainly and he gave her an almost confused look. "To.. get to know you." He said, looking almost lost for words but she was far from convinced. If her life had taught her anything, it was that just about everyone had an ulterior motive. Shani, Brynjolf and that really nice baker she'd met back in Bruma were clear exceptions. Though, Brynjolf did want her around to work for him in the beginning, but their friendship developed very fast. "People don't do that." She told him, a clear look of disbelief on her face. 

"Well, maybe you've been hanging around the wrong sort of people." He offered with a small smile. Her eyes landed on the sack of daggers while she considered his invitation. It just seemed a little too easy. People didn't just pop into your life with good intentions, she knew that. Though, he did seem genuinely surprised by what she said about sleeping with him. He could have been feigning ignorance. Mercer was a marvelous actor, there was no reason why Halof couldn't also be. "One drink?" She asked him, slightly leaning toward acceptance and he smiled. "Just one." 

"I'm paying for my own." She said immediately. She didn't want to be lured into another trap of gifts. He exhaled a laugh before he responded. "As a wealthy looking merchant's niece I would expect nothing less." He joked, going off the information she'd given him on the walk over. It earned him a smile. "Alright. Just one." She finally agreed. Since she'd most likely be in her room studying her books, they decided that he'd call on her there after dinnertime and they would have one drink. 

With a rather heavy sack of blades that she was definitely not looking forward to dragging all the way up the stairs to the Jarl's castle in Whiterun in her arms, she made her way back to her room at the inn. She left the large bag on top of the lone table her small room had to offer, placing it right beside her thick tomes and that's when she realized she had a problem. There was no way she could carry both and her backpack. Not even to the carriage. She would have to leave something behind and her only real storage space was her trunk in the cistern. A wave of sadness washed over her as the memory forced itself to the surface. 

The first time was so different. When she'd been fooled by that Imperial man back in Bravil. Time went on and eventually her feelings faded. Not this time, she still wanted him. So much so that she couldn't even talk about it yet. But she'd also reached a place of anger with him. Anger at being used like she was nothing. Like she meant nothing. She did matter. She mattered to herself and she knew she mattered to Brynjolf. She was not nothing and she wished she slapped him that day in the cistern for making her feel like she was. 

A hot bath was calling her name so that was the very next thing she did. Luckily, it was fresh and she soaked in the steaming water for longer than was necessary, letting the hot water seep into her muscles and calm her mind. She still had a bracelet to steal, she had not seen her target in the marketplace today. But they would turn up eventually and the bracelet would soon be in Delvin's possession. When the water was lukewarm and her fingers and toes had pruned, she left the bath and dressed in a thick brown tunic she snatched back in Whiterun. 

It was early morning and the shirt was among others hanging outside to dry and she pulled it right off as she passed. It was necessary to have another shirt aside from her dark blue one since the fancy purple shirt Mercer had given her sat, untouched at the bottom of her backpack. She considered wearing it when dealing with Nazeem, the Redguard man she'd most recently robbed in Whiterun. But after their first encounter she doubted any amount of finery would change his gods awful attitude towards her. 

With the day waning, she took her dinner inside her room. Thoroughly enjoying the hot stew and bread before pouring her attention into her thick tome on conjuring. She got through a good five chapters until she heard a soft knocking on her door that could only have been Halof.


	16. Moving Back In

"You know," Marianne started while sitting on top of the long table that sat adjacent to the forge under the awning. Halof was crouched on the ground beside her, scraping his heavily sharpened knife across a piece of hide that was strapped to a tanning rack and her legs were swinging beneath her while she ate a piece of taffy. "If you wanted to get more work done you could take a potion for stamina. There's one made from bees, torchbug thorax and orange dartwing. Or.. a less potent one but more expensive would have honeycomb and crushed pearl." She told him, holding as many fingers up while she listed the ingredients and repeating the information she'd recently acquired from her book of alchemy. 

He snorted a laugh before he looked up with kind brown eyes to grin at her. "I think I'd take the one that's not made of insect guts." He said and she smiled widely. "Yeah, me too." She agreed before taking another bite of her taffy. The first drinks they shared at the inn had been three days ago now and they'd met for another one every night since. Halof had so far been genuine in his intentions to get to know her and he never tried to stop her from supplying her own drinks. She discovered, that he was very easy to be around. So much so that she found herself migrating over to the forge every day just to chat. 

Earlier in the day, she'd been helping Brynjolf at his stall for something to do and once they decided it was time for a break, she headed over to the forge with her taffy in tow. The bracelet she'd originally been sent to steal had already been acquired and delivered to Delvin only to be replaced by another job in Riften. Which, completely went against everything he told her in the beginning about not bleeding Riften dry but she only hoped her next job sent her to Whiterun. She was eager to return with the daggers and enchant them. 

A light rain was pattering the roof of the awning and Marianne couldn't help but feel calmer for it. It had rained, in some form or another for the past few days and she was loving every minute of it. "Maybe you should drink a stamina potion. Put on a little muscle." He teased and she gave him a look of mock offence. "Excuse me, I have muscle thank you very much." She said, crossing her arms against her chest. He shot her a look like she was full of it. "Where?" He asked and her mouth fell open before she threw the remainder of her taffy at him. It bounced off his shoulder and hit the dirt behind him earning a chuckle from the Nord. 

She hopped off the table briefly to retrieve her taffy. After dusting a bit of dirt off the piece of candy, she took another bite and returned to her spot on the table, looking over in time to catch the look of amusement on the Nord's face. She paid for it with her own coin. Dirty or not, she was still gonna eat it.

Halof stopped his work briefly and looked up to meet her eyes. "If you were a bird, what kind would you be?" He asked her, drifting back to their previous conversation about what kinds of various things they would be if they weren't people. Marianne knew her answer right away. "Probably a pigeon because I'll eat anything." She said around the chewy taffy in her mouth, earning a laugh from the Nord. "What about you?" She asked him and he went back to his work for a moment and hummed while he thought about it. "A cardinal." He said finally and she exhaled a laugh. "Is it cause they like snow and you're a Nord?" She saw plenty of cardinal birds in Bruma, their bright red feathers stood out sharply against the snowiest region of Cyrodiil. 

"That's a good point." He admitted with a smile. "Cardinals are loyal. They form strong bonds and mate for life." He explained honestly and she couldn't help but think that was a really good answer. Her father was like that. It was just after Marianne's seventh winter when her mother died and she never saw another woman til she went to the orphanage. She always thought, if she ever found love, she would want it to be like that. The kind of love that's so strong you couldn't possibly have eyes for another and a partner that felt the same. "I think you put more thought into your answer." She admitted. "Can I change mine?" She asked and he smiled. 

"There's nothing wrong with your answer. It was honest." He said and she returned his smile before the sound of the shop door opening hit her slightly pointed ears and she heard Halof's father Balimund heading over. He grabbed the bucket next to the forge and checked it's contents. "Hey, Balimund!" She called, getting the older Nord's attention. "If you were a bird, what kind would you be?" She asked him and he scoffed. "A hawk." He answered without hesitation. "With talons as sharp as the steel we forge." He said and Marianne smiled at his very Nordic response before the man turned his attention to Halof. "I'm off to get water for the forge." He told his son who nodded in response before he headed in the direction of the wooden stairs that led to the lower level of the city. The lake water ran right through, which couldn't have been more convenient for the blacksmith. 

The rain had stopped and her eyes followed the travelling bard as he made his way from beneath the inn's awning to the center of the marketplace. He'd been playing all morning between breaks in the rain with his lute case open, hoping to earn a few septims for the entertainment provided. He'd been playing with the inn's bard every night. So loudly, in fact that she could hear the dreaded Nordic tunes even inside her rented room. Which was incredibly annoying since it made it that much harder for her to concentrate on her studies. 

Knowing that when Balimund returned, the hammering would begin again, they solidified their plans to meet after dinnertime for a drink at the inn and after, she bid Halof good-bye. She left the forge and weaved her way through the now heavier crowd of patrons on her way toward the inn. She was stopped by Madesi as she passed his stall and he was all too excited to share the news of his planned proposal to Wujeeta. He showed Marianne the ring he intended on giving her. It was a solid gold band with three large amethyst stones embedded into the band. It was a lovely ring but she expected nothing less from the jewelry merchant. She was glad their relationship was evolving so well and wished him all the best of luck with his proposal before she left. 

Once she made it back inside her room she sighed heavily. Since she'd already shelled out a good seventy gold just staying at the inn and her pickpocketing job had not closed the gap, she was faced with the very harsh reality that her coin purse could no longer sustain her rented bed. She would be broke by the end of next week. Of course, she still had a sizeable amount of gold, free food and a free bed, but it was all back at the cistern. Marianne had two options, go broke avoiding Mercer, or keep the remaining money to her name and sleep in the cistern where she knew he would most likely be. Sadness and anger still swirled inside her mind and she was not ready to face him directly. But she was also not allowed to pickpocket freely inside the city and she didn't exactly like the idea of going off on her next out-of-city job broke. 

Reluctantly, she began packing her belongings. She decided while she packed her backpack and grabbed her heavy tomes, that she would do her absolute best to avoid him at all costs. She would fill her time with activities whenever possible and if she had nothing to do, she would study her books at the bar. Since Marianne is a Breton and severely lacking in the muscles department, it took much longer than was necessary to make it to the guild's entrance. It was an entrance she hadn't used in months and her mind couldn't help but conjure up the memory of the last time she used it. She did her best to ignore those thoughts while she groaned from the exertion of dragging the heavy sack of daggers towards the stone mausoleum with the hand that wasn't clutching the comically thick tomes against her chest. She knew, if Brynjolf could see her, he would be laughing his Nordic butt off at the sight. 

With the hidden button pressed and the secret tunnel revealed, she descended the few cobblestone steps to the ladder and, without much warning, tossed the heavy sack of daggers down the hole to the tunnel floor below. 

Mercer looked up from the ledger he'd been scribbling away in for the past hour at the sound of a loud bang coming from the short tunnel of the graveyard entrance. With a deep crease set in his brow, he placed his pen back on it's stand to focus his attention on whatever was going on. A dragging sound reached his ears and a moment later his breath caught in his chest.

Time had done nothing to dull her beauty. It hit him the other day in the marketplace and now all over again. She was too beautiful. Even in the dim light, her beauty was ethereal and he was suddenly awash with feelings. He watched her, his eyes glued to her every movement as she clutched too-large books against her chest and dragged a heavy looking sack across the cistern to her bed. A bed that had been empty for months but was now getting it's occupant back. It hit him then, she was moving back in. He expected it would happen eventually, staying at the inn every night cost a hefty amount of gold. The beds alone weren't cheap, let alone the additional cost of food and drink. But expecting it and it actually happening are two completely different things. 

When she made it to her bed, she ditched her books on the mattress and took deep breaths to recover from the physical labor. She shook her arms a few times, to dispel the lingering soreness and Mercer was again reminded of just how delicate she was. Brynjolf's question appeared in his mind and he was once again forced to admit to himself that he truly did not know the answer. But he knew one thing, he could not stand by and simply allow someone else win her over. 

It was bad enough being forced to watch that boy get a smile out of her. Like a sharp blade twisting in his guts and he was immediately filled with regret at the sight. He watched her open her trunk and place the heavy sack inside and hesitate, just for a second she reached for something only to stop herself before letting the lid harshly fall closed. She stood and without a glance spared toward him, not that he deserved it anyway, left the cistern by way of the bar. 

After dropping her things off in the cistern, making sure to keep her eyes trained only on her belongings as she did, she made her way back to the market to help Brynjolf a bit more. She told him of her decision to return and he agreed that it was the best choice as far as her money was concerned. Then he laughed when she told him how she dragged her belongings back to the hideout and teased her for not asking him for his help. But she hadn't thought about it at the time. The afternoon was a prosperous one for the potion stall and Marianne herself sold a few vials of Brynjolf's Baldsbane specialty potion, despite her earlier protests about selling crushed bees. While they were packing up the stall for the afternoon, the target of her job walked into the marketplace at the last moment and headed towards the jewelry stall. Never one to let an opportunity slide, and knowing she could use Madesi as a distraction, she bid Brynjolf good-bye, telling him she would see him later and went to retrieve a very fancy looking broach. 

It didn't take long, only a few minutes had passed before Marianne was now the temporary owner of the fancy broach. She'd taken it right off the woman's scarf by while she was distracted, deep into Madesi's explanation of the different cuts of jewels he could replace the missing one in her bracelet with. All it took was a well placed accidental bumping into her, a few seconds while she feigned concern for the other woman while her hand worked and then she was walking away with no-one the wiser. 

When she finally made her way underground by way of the bar's entrance she examined it in the dim torchlight. It looked delicate, made of near solid gold and felt almost soft. Definitely one of the nicest things Marianne had ever had her hands on. When she reached the underground bar, she immediately spotted Delvin at his usual table. She noticed that Brynjolf was already there and her heart nearly stopped when her eyes landed on the occupant of the third chair at the table. He was talking to Brynjolf, his light blue eyes discernable from her frozen place by the door. Being as far away as she was, she couldn't hear what they were saying but there was a large map placed across the table top, being held in place by bottles of ale. One of Mercer's index fingers was fixed on a place on the map, pointing it out to the others. 

Oh, and it hurt. It hurt so bad to look at him. He looked just as good as he had over two months ago and her heart broke all over again at the sight. But then she remembered how cold his eyes were when he told her that their time spent together meant nothing. That she meant nothing. She was once again reminded of her anger towards him and had half a mind to turn around right then and there. But she knew she would have to face him sooner or later. So she took a deep breath and steeled herself before forcing her feet to move. 

She crossed the noisy bar and approached the table, keeping her eyes locked on Delvin, lest she give in to that burning urge to slap Mercer right there in front of everyone. He looked up at her approach, his brows raising at her tense expression. "Mary." He greeted and without responding she dug into the pocket of her leather pants and retrieved the broach that was safely tucked there. Though she did not look, she could feel Mercer's piercing eyes boring through her as she held the stolen item out for Delvin. He took the offered item, checked that it was in fact the requested item before holding a small bag of gold out for her. 

"I need another job." She said immediately, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man across the map covered table in front of her. "Actually," Brynjolf started, earning her attention and she looked to her left to face him. He was wearing his guild leathers, as was usual when he was underground and he too had a bottle of ale in front of him, helping to hold down the map. "the three of us are planning something big for Windhelm in a few days time and we'd like you along." He said simply, in that smooth voice of his. Her lips parted, a surprised exhale escaping her before she responded. "No." She said, with a shake of her head. Brynjolf was insane if he thought she would firstly, take a job bigger than pickpocketing and second, spent any measure of time around Mercer that wasn't absolutely required by her living arrangements. 

"Lass, before you refuse-"

"No. Absolutely not." She said before turning on her heel, making a hasty retreat toward the door that led to the cistern. She was already late for her drink with Halof and she wasn't about to make him wait longer for the sake of arguing something she'd already said no to. Brynjolf easily caught up to her stride and matched her pace as she headed for the door. "Look. We need you. We need a woman in the cart and Vex is in Whiterun and Sapphire is out in Ivarstead. It has to be-" 

She stopped her angry marching to turn around and face the Nord with as much anger as she could muster. "Then why don't you recruit more women, Brynjolf. I'm sure he would love that!" She shouted, causing several heads to turn to the sight of her harshly pointing an index finger in Mercer's direction. Probably not the best decision since it was late afternoon and there were regular citizens down here enjoying the cheap drinks. But right now, she was far too angry to care. She just couldn't believe Brynjolf actually wanted to stick her on a cart with that man, after what he did to her. 

"She is pissed at you." Delvin said with a chuckle as he brought his ale to his lips. Mercer sighed as he watched her face morph into a mix of pain and anger as Brynjolf talked to her in a quiet voice at the edge of the underground bar. She was still shaking her head and for possibly the first time ever, he was doubting Brynjolf's silver tongue. "I know." He said before taking a drink of his own bottle. 

Of course she would be, he fully expected she would be with the way he treated her. The way he regretted treating her. Mercer knew it would not be easy to fix the damage he'd done, but he knew he had to. The sight of her even smiling at another man was too much. Brynjolf must have said something that intrigued her, because her eyes widened. He couldn't read the response on her lips, the candlelight was far too dim but Brynjolf's words must have done the job because a look of defeat crossed her face. She jabbed an index finger in his direction again before she crossed her arms and shook her head. 

A small smile came to his face when she rolled her eyes with a huff. He was suddenly struck with just how much he missed having her around. She was innocent ..and impulsive ..and stubborn. But beyond talented when it came to picking pockets. Yes, she was fragile. But she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And he.. he had to have her. She suddenly jabbed an index finger into Brynjolf's chest before holding it up and looking like was scolding him. Gods, he missed her. Tantrums and all. 

"You sure it's a good idea to bring her?" Delvin asked him and Mercer's jaw tightened. He couldn't leave her behind, giving that boy more of an opportunity to win her over. It would make it all the more difficult to get her back if he was around. "Definitely." He said bringing his ale to his lips once more. He watched as she left through the door that led to the cistern and Brynjolf crossed the bar to resume his former seat at their table. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his shoulder length auburn locks before taking a swig form his own bottle. "Well?" Mercer asked, the suspense eating at him. Brynjolf shot him a smirk before he responded. "She's in." 

"How'd you do it?" Delvin asked him before Mercer could. 

"I told her it would be doing me a huge favor." He said simply. "And that the payoff for the job would earn her five hundred gold." Delvin's eyes widened at that and Brynjolf smirked at him before turning his attention back to Mercer. "That comes from you by the way. I'm not giving up my cut." He said before taking another drink. "That's fine." Mercer said immediately. He didn't care how much it cost to get her on that cart, he'd pay. "Oh, and she said if you piss her off she's going to slap you. Again." Brynjolf said, earning a laugh from Delvin. Mercer scoffed, he would not put it past her in the slightest. That woman loved hitting him. Though, this time around he probably deserved it. 

No, he quickly decided. He definitely deserved it. "I'll be sure to wear a helmet."


	17. The Windhelm Job (Part 1)

A light breeze swept across the lake, cooling Marianne's heated skin where she stood, just a few paces away from the waters edge. She panted to catch her breath from the vigorous exercise while tightening her grip on the practice short sword's leather bound handle in her right hand. Her free hand fanned the front of her nice, dark red tunic against her chest to bring relief from the fabric that clung to her dewy skin. A shirt that, just a few days ago she was hesitant to even touch when she spotted it in her trunk, now complimented her fair skin and small frame. Usually free falling brown waves were woven into a braided bun to keep it from getting in the way of clashing blades. Her opponent's own chest rapidly rose and fell from his own exhaustion. 

"You're getting better." He complimented as he started moving again, looking for another place to strike and she cracked a smile before her own feet started moving. She really was getting better, the past few mornings Marianne and Halof had been out here, by the lake Honrich just after sunrise to practice. Halof assured her that he needed it just as much as she did, since he spent most days swinging a hammer and very little time swinging a blade and he'd gotten rusty. His mechanics were still leagues better than Marianne's though. "I think I even have some muscle now." She said with a grin and he smiled widely. "Yeah, I can see it. If I squint." He said and her mouth fell open in surprise. 

A quick move of her hand brought her blade down, only for Halof to block it with his own sword and she narrowed her blue eyes at him. "That was a death blow." He chided as they started circling each other once more. "We're supposed to be practicing, not trying to kill each other." She smiled at his fake scolding. "I'm not going to learn anything if we don't take this seriously." She told him matter-of-factly, placing her free hand on her hip. He shot her a smirk before taking a few loose strikes out to the side. The movement causing the large, hammer-built muscles of his biceps, visible by his typical choice of sleeveless tunics to flex before swinging his sword in her direction. 

Their blades clashed again and again while he advanced on her, forcing her to walk backwards. Her foot was caught by an object she didn't see, forcing her to lose her balance and she fell to the soft grass only to roll out of the way of one of his strikes. Their chosen practice area was frequently trafficked by fishermen not wanting to use the docks. With the constant tramping of feet against the ground, it kept the grass short and made for the perfect place to practice with their blades. Surprise crossed her face and she met his eyes, only to see he was grinning ear to ear. "Now who's trying to kill who?" She said, her voice raspy from her exertions. His hand shot out, offering to help her up and she took it. No sooner had he pulled her to her feet did she shove him to the ground and straddled his waist while holding her short sword above his chest. "Dead." She said, a victorious smile stretching her face. "But I know you let me win." 

"A gentleman always let's a lady win." He said and she rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to learn anything if you let me win." She told him seriously and he exhaled a laugh before she got up, holding her own hand out for him. He took it, but instead of letting her help him stand, he pulled her to the grassy ground, forcing her to lose her sword in the process. Her hands fell by her sides and he straddled her, causing a wide smile to cross her face at his copying. "You will learn." He said assuredly, his own breathing labored from their fighting. "To never underestimate your enemy, even in victory." 

What he didn't see, was her right hand was palm up and she was concentrating hard on the purple glow swirling in her palm. Once her summon was complete, she smiled widely. "I could say the same thing to you, Halof." She said sweetly and he tensed when the breathy exhale of her summon to hit his face, causing his short brown hair that clung to his sweat slickened skin to dance across his forehead. She watched his brown eyes look to his left and widen when he saw the half open maw of the glowing purple wolf staring him in the face. "Point taken." He said and a mixed expression of amusement and genuine concern crossed his face. Her smile grew wider as she lay beneath him. "And you said I wasn't frightening." She cooed sweetly. His eyes were glued to the wolf's form as it dispelled, falling to the soft grass in a translucent purple smoke that spread out slightly before it disappeared.

His kind brown eyes went back to hers and he shot her a smile before he got to his feet. The trees created a canopy of green and gold above them, blocking the brightness of the morning sun and he sheathed his sword before holding a hand out to help her to her feet. She took the offered hand and immediately, her eyes scanned the grassy ground for her own short sword. Her eyes spotted it, a few feet away and immediately took the few steps to where it lay and retrieved it. When she turned around, she was almost startled to see Halof standing so close and holding out a freshly-plucked red mountain flower. 

"For you." He said and her pulse quickened at the sight. "It matches your shirt." He said with a smile. That's when she saw it, that yearning look in his eyes and her mouth immediately turned down in a frown. A flower. A gods damned flower. It was happening again. He caught the almost pained look on her face and a look of concern crossed his. "I'm allergic." She said before turning on her heel and marching toward the tree her conjuring tome and backpack were leaned against, already packed for the lengthy trip to Windhelm. A trip she didn't even want to go on and only agreed to because she didn't want Brynjolf or Delvin to get caught and arrested just because she wanted to avoid Mercer. That, and the five hundred gold pieces she would receive as payment. 

She cursed herself every step of the way and Halof hurried to her side when she bent to pickup her backpack, sliding the strap over one shoulder. She hastily held out the shortsword for him to take back. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." He said, taking the practice blade and she scoffed before grabbing her thick tome, holding it tightly against her chest. Her boot covered feet angry trudged through the grass towards the stables that sat beside Riften's front gate. "It wasn't my intention to offend you." He said, easily matching her quickened pace and she grit her teeth before she responded. "I told you I would not sleep with you. And definitely not for a ..a damned flower!" She snapped, keeping her eyes forward as her feet carried her toward the stables. 

A merchant's cart was just pulling away from the stables when she reached it. Though, before she could round the corner, Halof's hand shot out, grabbing the top of her arm to stop her. She spun to face him, anger contorting her features and she fought the sudden urge to slap him. "That's not why I picked it for you." He said urgently, a look of genuine concern on his face, his brown eyes almost pleading. But she'd been fooled by eyes too many times. "I'm not stupid Halof. I saw the way you looked at me." She told him, a firm crease planted in her brow. She knew what that look meant and she would not allow herself to be used again. 

"I was looking at you like that because you're beautiful!" He exclaimed, exasperated and her lips parted in surprise at his confession. The anger she felt wavered at his words. The only time she'd ever been called beautiful was when she was already in bed with a man. No one ever told her that, just for the sake of saying it and she didn't really know how to respond. His expression softened and he sighed before he spoke again. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to kiss you." He admitted and she saw genuine affection glittering in his eyes. It struck her then that he was being honest. 

Halof was a nice man, despite her suspicions. He'd been nothing but kind to her in the short time she'd known him. He was a good looking man too. With defined cheekbones and a strong jaw. He was built strong, as most Nords were. But, as much as she liked him as a person, those kind brown eyes were not the ones she wanted looking at her like that. Her face fell and he sighed again. "But you don't want me to, do you?" Her eyes dropped to the thick tome she held in her arms, the gold border perfectly complimented the purple cover. The book was old and worn and unfortunately had a few pages missing, hastily torn from the tome by a previous owner. But she'd been able to fill in the blanks well enough so far. The two summons she managed to master were proof enough of that fact. "I.." She started before releasing a heavy sigh. She couldn't, even if Halof's feelings were genuine. Deep down her heart still yearned for Mercer. Maybe in time.. "I can't.. not yet." She admitted. 

"That's alright." He said and she looked up to see a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a patient man and-"

"There's my lovely niece." Brynjolf appeared around the side of the stables causing Marianne to startle from the sudden voice beside her. "Brynjolf!" She exclaimed breathily, her chest rapidly rising and falling to recover from the sudden appearance of another. He was smiling widely and dressed down in plain clothes, appearing ready for what promised to be a lengthy trip. Which only confused Marianne. They planned to leave at mid-day, there was still a good two hours before then and she hadn't even had breakfast yet. "Ready to leave? Those herbs aren't going to find themselves." He said in that smooth-talking voice of his and a deep blush pooled in her face when she realized their conversation had an audience. 

"I thought.. we were leaving at mid-day." She said, still recovering from his sudden appearance beside her. "We're all ready. I see no reason why we should wait any longer." He said simply, tilting his head back the way he'd come and she peeked around the side of the stables. A frown came to her face at the sight of Mercer and Delvin standing at the end of the loaded up carriage, quietly talking amongst themselves. They too, were dressed down in plain clothes and Delvin was holding his lute. At least there would be music on the long ride to Windhelm and back. Delvin could play beautifully. 

With a deep breath in, she turned back to Halof to bid him goodbye. She'd already informed him of her impending trip and, with goodbyes exchanged, she watched him head towards Riften's tall gates. Her eyes wandered to the tented carriage that Delvin and Mercer were beginning to board and a heavy sigh escaped her at the sight. It still hurt to look at him. The worst part was that deep down she still wanted him, despite the way he treated her while simultaneously also wanting to slap him for the way he treated her. It was an odd cocktail of emotions, like a Cyrodilic sangria inside her mind. "For what it's worth.." Brynjolf started and she met his emerald eyes. "he's regretful." 

Her mouth fell open from the surprise of his words and he shot her a devilish grin. "But you didn't hear that from me." He cooed sweetly before starting a leisurely stroll towards the carriage, whistling as he did and leaving Marianne where she stood beside the stables to digest his words. Was he really just going to drop that on her and walk away? "..What?" She called after him, not even all that certain she'd heard him correctly but he never looked back. Instead, he only kept his pace. His long, Nordic legs quickly carrying him to the front of the carriage where he wasted no time taking the driver's seat. 

That couldn't be true, Mercer had given no indication that he regretted anything he'd done. The past few days, since she moved back into the cistern, he'd made no attempt to speak to her to apologize or otherwise. He seemed content to let her continue ignoring him. On the other hand, Brynjolf knew Mercer better than anyone since they were the longest running members of the guild. If he really was regretful, Brynjolf would be the one to know. Marianne was suddenly awash with feelings and she wished he hadn't said anything, especially since she was now set to spend several days with him. Another cool breeze hit her skin, chilling it from the sweat that had dried there and reluctantly, her feet began carrying her toward the tented carriage while Brynjolf's words seemed to worm their way into her stomach, causing nervous flutters there.

Those uneasy feelings quickly turned to irritation when she boarded the tented carriage, while being careful to balance the thick tome in her left arm and laid her eyes upon the seating arrangements. Their supplies for the trip, along with several empty crates that would soon house stolen belongings were stacked towards the back of the carriage while reserved spaces for seating were towards the front. Delvin had his legs stretched out on the bench by himself, his fingers already going to work on his lute playing a light hearted tune. That only left one spot for Marianne, the spot beside Mercer. "Why do you always get to sit by yourself?" She asked Delvin, her irritation at the seating situation blatantly obvious by her tone. "Bad knees." He said simply, continuing to pluck at the delicate strings of the instrument without meeting her eyes. She rolled her eyes and took heavy steps to the front of the cart where she plopped down beside Mercer. At least there was a good foot or so of space between them this time around. 

Marianne was careful, to not meet his eyes while she settled into the bench beside him. Brynjolf threw a look over his shoulder, making sure everyone was seated before the carriage lurched forward and they were moving. She'd thrown her backpack under her bench and sat back against the side of the carriage before opening the thick tome of Conjuring, quickly turning to the page she'd previous dog-eared. She managed to make it through a few chapters before her mind started to wander back to what Brynjolf had said. Marianne would be the last person to ever call Brynjolf a liar, but maybe he misinterpreted something Mercer had said. If he really was regretful for the things he'd done, he would have said so. Right?

"You've been on that same page for an hour now." Mercer said suddenly, his voice cutting through her thoughts and she huffed before swiftly flipping to the next page. "I have not." She muttered. He exhaled a laugh beside her and it took everything in her to not give him the dirtiest of looks. Instead, she glared daggers at the chapter title in front of her. 

'Chapter 31: The Flaming Familiar' 

Great, she thought. Just when she got the hang of summoning wolves, now she had to summon them on fire. Still, she did her best to block out the annoying presence of Mercer beside her and focus on the text contained in her giant spell book. The day was long and they only stopped twice, just long enough for everyone to relieve themselves and feed the horses, which Brynjolf of course teased her about before getting back on the road. It was a lengthy trip to the capital of Eastmarch so it was necessary to cover as much ground as possible. When they finally stopped to make camp for the night, they were a league or so north of the Shor's Stone watchtower, somewhere just south of the border of Eastmarch. Brynjolf pulled the horses to a stop before guiding them just off the cobblestone path, to a shaded area between trees that would make it hard for anyone to discover their campfire without venturing into the forest themselves. 

Knowing full well that she would be sent to collect firewood, she immediately announced her intentions with a roll of her blue eyes and stalked into the trees to collect what she could under the slivers of daylight that remained. Her leather clad feet carried her through the forest where she collected two thick bundles of wood for the fire Delvin had built from her offerings. But it was on her third trip though the forest, after the light had significantly dimmed that her foot sank into a hole full of leaves. She staggered, dropping the heavy sticks in her arms with a grunt before a rope closed tightly around her ankle. She had no time to react before the rope yanked her upside down and she let out a shriek as it held her securely attached to the thick branch above her.


	18. The Windhelm Job (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Marianne got her name from a song by Boston.

Marianne blinked a few times to dispel her suddenly spotty vision. A throbbing pain on the side of her head alerted her to the injury there. It was quickly followed by a wet warmth that spread along her scalp. The rope pulled her up quickly, but not quick enough to avoid smacking her head on one of the heavy sticks she'd been carrying. At least, she assumed that's what she'd hit her head on since she couldn't see anything else that posed a threat beneath her. Her arms were hanging, useless above her head and she realized she was spinning in slow circles that, coupled with the pain she felt, only made her want to hurl. 

"Oh, don't throw up. Please don't throw up." She chanted to herself while the spinning started to slow. The last thing she wanted to do was throw up in the exact spot she would land when she eventually got out of the obvious hunting trap. Once the spinning stopped completely, she lifted her head searching for the dagger usually housed in the sheathe on her belt, only to discover that she'd lost it. Her eyes went to the ground beneath her and she spotted it, the shining steel stood out sharply against the soft grass beneath her. "Oh, come on!" She complained loudly, announcing her irritation to the forest around her.

The sound of heavy footsteps fast approaching had her breath caught in her chest. Her lungs constricted by the fear of not knowing who was coming. A rush of adrenaline had her pulse racing through her veins, that instinctual internal response to imminent danger. The realization that she was alone and without her blade damn near brought tears to her eyes. Instead, she stared in the direction of the footsteps, fearing whoever was coming her way. A blur of brown cotton and dark blue leather shot out of the trees and she she audibly gasped as the figure came to a halt a few paces away. Light, piercing blue eyes met hers for a second, surveying the situation before a look of genuine relief crossed his face. 

Her expression mirrored his, relief washing through her until he dropped the dead rabbits he was carrying for his now free hand to run through his brown shoulder-length locks. He chuckled, clearly at her expense and she glared daggers at him. "This is not funny!" She snapped, both of her arms crossing against her chest and his laughter only grew in volume. The effect was an obvious blush of humiliation that sprouted in her face and chest. Oh, she was pissed. "Mercer!" She yelled, but it was no use. All she could do was glare while he continued to laugh at her awful predicament. "I swear.. when I get down from here... " She growled, mostly to herself since he was still laughing at her. 

He wiped at moisture that gathered in his eyes once his laughter finally died down. "You screamed... like you were being killed... for this?" He asked, holding his hands out as a few more chuckles escaped him. Oh, she wanted to slap that man. "You are so annoying!" She yelled at him as he came closer, nearly closing the distance between them. "Cut me down!" She demanded, her humiliation still on display through her blushing and all she received was a grin in response. "Mercer, I swear.. I'll-" 

"What?" He asked, all too pleased with her suffering. Bastard that he was. "What are you going to do from up there?" Her eyes narrowed and one of her hands shot out, nails first as she swiped at the air in front of his face. His grin grew wider, til she could see the whites of his teeth in a genuine smile. "Not quite." He cooed from where he still stood, safely out of her reach. "Oh, screw you Mercer!" She snapped, crossing her arms once more. "Brynjolf!" She yelled to the forest around her, the sound slightly echoing and Mercer exhaled a laugh beside her. "I doubt he'll hear you over Delvin's lute." He said, earning a glare from the still tied up Breton. "Cut me down. You ass!" She demanded and his brows shot up at the venom in her tone. 

"Now, that's not the sort of attitude that's going to get you what you want." He quipped before turning on his heel. He crossed the grassy forest floor that was sparsely littered with freshly dead leaves. "Maybe you'll have better luck with the bandits." He called over his shoulder as he bent to fetch the rabbits he'd previously dropped. Fear shot through her at his words and she watched, wide-eyed as he simply continued on his way. "Wait!" She called only for him to ignore her on his way back to their small camp. He wasn't actually going to leave her tied up with the threat of bandits, was he? 

Apparently he was, because he kept his pace and was quickly out of sight, leaving her behind just like he said in the quickly darkening forest. "Mercer, please don't leave me!" She called, her voice breaking as tears stung her eyes. A few seconds of tense silence passed and relief flooded through her when his footsteps returned to her ears and he came back into view. Once again he dropped the rabbits a few paces away before he retrieved the bow from his back and nocked an arrow. "What are you doing!?" She shouted, the alarm apparent in her voice and she threw her hands up to shield herself when he took aim at her. 

"Cutting you down. You do want to come down, don't you?" He asked and she gave him an unimpressed look. "Well, yeah. But I don't want to end up like those rabbits in the process." She said, punctuating her words with a sharp jab of her index finger at the dead animals by his feet. The last thing she wanted was to wind up looking like a damned pin cushion. He scoffed. "I'm not going to hit you, Marianne." He assured her and she gave him a look like he was full of it while a small part of her mind caught the way he said her name, in that low voice of his. Damn that voice. "If I can hit a couple of running rabbits, I can hit a static cord of rope." 

"Can't you just cut me down, like a rational person?" She griped and he gave her a wicked smile as he took his aim at the rope she hung from. "Why don't you cut yourself down, Marianne? Can't you summon blades?" He asked her before releasing his arrow. She had no time to react to the humiliating truth of his words before letting out a surprised shriek as she fell to the grassy ground beneath her. Another sound, this time a cry of pain, escaped her as she landed on her arm wrong causing a sharp pain to erupt in her shoulder. The air in her lungs harshly abandoned her upon her impact with the ground and she was once again reminded of the wound in her head as it too began to throb. 

"Oh, I hate you." She groaned from where she lay on the grassy ground at the sound of his approaching footsteps. "I hate you so much." She complained breathlessly, her face twisted in a pained expression while her free hand held her aching shoulder. He entered her field of view and knelt beside her, the palm of his hand already alight with a soft, healing glow. His free hand took hold of her wounded arm and she let him, releasing a cry of pain when he twisted it in a way her muscles sharply protested against. "You tore a muscle, but I can fix it... hold still." He said firmly and though her expression still mirrored one of pain, she did her best to listen. His healing was leagues ahead of her own and while she might still be angry and hurt, she wasn't going to risk permanent injury by refusing his talents in restoration. He held her arm in the proper position before the warmth of the healing spell finally penetrated her shoulder, bringing with it relief from the pain. 

It was slow going, as his spell knitted her muscle back together and she fought the sudden wave of nausea when she quite literally felt her muscle moving back to the proper place. When her breathing relaxed and she felt like she could speak again, she did. "There had to be a better way to do that." She complained freely and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "You really didn't think about summoning a dagger?" He asked and a blush of humiliation dusted her cheeks. "Stop it." She said and his smile widened. His light blue eyes followed the movement of her hand as it rose to touch her still tender head. He must have seen the blood there because once her shoulder was healed, his hand immediately went to work healing her wounded head. It didn't take long, it bled a bit but it wasn't too deep and soon she was healed with the exceptions of a few bruises that would appear later on.

Mercer stood and offered an open hand to her. She placed hers in his and her free hand clutched the fabric covering his left bicep while he helped her stand. When she was finally upright, he made no move to release her. If anything the hands on her own hand and waist tightened and she looked up, her deep blue eyes meeting his own light blue ones and her breath nearly caught at the look he was giving her. Something akin to affection was glittering in his eyes and she nearly melted at the sight. That is, until she remembered how cold his eyes were when he told her that she meant nothing to him. A deep frown came to her face at that particular memory and she suddenly pulled herself from his grasp. Tearing her eyes away from his as she did, she quickly stepped around him and began gathering the sticks she dropped when her foot fell into the trap. Mercer released a heavy sigh behind her. "Marianne.." 

"Thank you for cutting me down." She said while trying her absolute best to not show him any emotion. Though, that alone was difficult with the knot that somehow found it's way into her throat, making it that much harder to speak. With as much wood in her arms as she could comfortably carry, her boot covered feet quickly carried her back the way she'd come and away from Mercer. Which, unfortunately was not far enough since they were headed back to the same camp. She could hear his footsteps lagging a few paces behind hers. But a few moments later, the small campsite came into view. "Sure, Delvin. Keep playing your lute while the woman goes into the woods alone. What could possibly go wrong?" She drawled sarcastically upon their return. Both Delvin and Brynjolf looked up at her and Mercer's combined approach with questioning looks on their face. "She's fine." Mercer said from behind her when Brynjolf opened his mouth to ask. 

Marianne stalked over to the campfire and quite unceremoniously, dropped her armful of sticks onto the already existing pile. Without another word, she left the comfort of the warm fire and the laid out bedrolls in favor of boarding the tented carriage that was stationed ten or so paces away. She didn't even want to look at Mercer, let alone sleep next to him. Sure, she was thankful for him healing her shoulder and head but that is where her appreciation ended. 

Once inside the tented carriage, she inhaled shakily before releasing a long exhale to compose herself. They weren't a day into their journey and he was already in her head again. The way he looked at her.. Damn that man! She cursed him as she released her long hair from the intricately braided bun it was woven into. Either Brynjolf was wrong and Mercer was just trying to get laid again or Brynjolf was right and he thought he could get by without a proper apology. Whichever the case, Marianne was not letting him off the hook so easily and she was definitely not sleeping with him again anytime soon. Tired and full of irritation, she laid on the floor of the carriage and using her backpack as a pillow, she did her best to ignore the muffled voices outside the tent. After a while, the soft strumming was all she could hear and she managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep. 

The next morning, the first thing Marianne did was change out of her nice, dark red tunic. Opting instead for her thick green one that was far less fancy but necessary to remain inconspicuous on the job. They would be entering stormcloak territory later in the day and being stopped at least once was more than likely. When she returned to the makeshift camp, it was already packed up and she boarded the carriage, resuming her earlier spot beside Mercer. Not in the mood to read, she took lazy bites from a piece of bread she grabbed from her backpack while the four of them rode in silence.

"So what's this job?" Marianne asked after a while and Delvin was the one to respond. "You would know if you bothered to join us in our planning." 

"We're robbing the thane of Eastmarch." Mercer answered and her eyes went wide before she turned to face him. "We'll be killed." She said. Though he looked far from bothered by her concern. "We wont. There is a ball being held at the palace. Everyone who's anyone will be there and security will be low throughout the residences." A deep crease formed in her brow at his words. She didn't like it and she rubbed at her bracelet covered wrist absentmindedly. One of her tasks when she was hired in the kitchen was to take scraps to the dungeons. She'd seen some pretty messed up things in her short life and the Windhelm dungeons were definitely among them. 

They kept their prisoners bound by their wrists and the sight of them all was burned into her memory. A sudden wave of nausea washed over her and she had Brynjolf pull the carriage to a stop. She barely managed to make it to the closest tree before she was leaning against it, mentally begging herself to not throw up the bread she'd eaten. It was a fruitless request. The bread came up.

Brynjolf appeared when she was kicking dirt over her sick and held out her waterskin. She accepted it eagerly, first rinsing her mouth before drinking deeply to soothe her burning throat. "Talk to me." He said and she leaned back against the thick pine tree, training her eyes on the spiny branches above her. She shook her head. "I don't know if I can do it. If they don't kill us we'll be arrested. I've seen their dungeon Brynjolf.. I-I can't be tied up again." A warm hand was placed on her shoulder and she met his emerald eyes. They were calm. "None of us are gonna let that happen. Alright?" 

Her eyes dropped to the ground. It was sparsely littered with patched of white and she suddenly realized the air was rather cold. She wasn't convinced by his words and he must have sensed that because he spoke again. "Look at me, Mary." He said and she reluctantly listened. "You have my word. That will not happen to you again." He promised and though she still wasn't completely convinced, she knew that when it came down to it, she could trust Brynjolf. A deep breath invaded her lungs before she nodded and the two of them headed back towards the carriage, taking their respective seats before they were all moving again. "Didn't you just throw that up?" Mercer asked when she began nibbling at her bread again. She turned her head to the right to shoot him an unimpressed look. "Well yeah and now I'm starving again." She said around a mouthful of bread and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. 

The carriage ride was long and they didn't pull up to the Windhelm stables until late in the evening. No doubt due to the three times they were stopped while in Stormcloak territory. With a quick look inside their carriage and a few words exchanged with the smooth talking Brynjolf, they were allowed to leave each time. But Marianne was more than curious how they planned to take the stolen goods back to Riften without being caught. But if it could be done, she suspected Brynjolf, Mercer and Delvin would be the ones to do it. With them having arrived at the city a day before the planned festivities, the four of them made their way across the giant, snow covered bridge that led to the massive city. 

Foolishly, Marianne forgot to bring her cloak so the first thing she did when she was allowed past the large stone gates was head over to the clothing shop and buy a new one. The last thing she wanted to do was shell more money out for something that she already had, but protection from the biting cold was necessary. It was late and since most of the shops were closed in the market square, she ventured into the grey quarter. The seamstress she found there was a lovely Dunmer woman that happily fitted her with a long cloak made of a thickly woven dark brown material that would keep her warm enough during her brief trips outside. The woman had even been kind enough to remove the extra length from the end so it wouldn't drag or catch while she walked. 

When she left the shop, the sun was beginning it's descent. Taking the temperature along with it and she hugged her newly acquired cloak tighter to her form as she made her way back to the inn. A little while later, she was greeted by a gust of warmth as she entered the Candlehearth Hall inn. It was a nice place, but she expected no less from an inn that belonged to a city of a self proclaimed king. Marianne wasn't a politician, but from what she'd seen, Ulfric seemed to fit the bill. He was as pompous as they come and she'd only seen him a few times in passing. She couldn't imagine having to endure any significant length of time around him. It would surely drive her mad if she did.

After inquiring about a room to rent, she was informed that one had been purchased for her and she happily accepted it's key. The lower level of the inn was all rooms with the second floor reserved for drinks, food and music. After placing her backpack and newly acquired cloak inside her rented room, she made her way to the bathhouse for a long soak. The water was hot, the tub freshly filled and there were a few flowering herbs floating in the water that would lend their scent to her skin long after her bath was finished. Two of which she recognized, lavender and Rosemary. There were two others, small white flowers that she couldn't place but their combined scent was lovely and she was more than looking forward to the lingering effects. 

Once her fingers and toes began to prune, she left the still warm bath and redressed before returning to her room to briefly run her brush through her brown locks. When she finished that, her stomach rudely reminded her of her hunger and she quickly made her way to the second floor of the inn. 

"Well, well, well." A voice in front of her cooed when she ascended the final step. Her eyes rose to the man in front of her to see a hulking Nord as large as Brynjolf himself. Though, with it being Ulfric's city, the sight was a rather common one. He was older than herself, thirty or so winters and his grey eyes were raking over her figure in a way that nearly made her sick for the second time. A movement of his hand caught her attention as he brought a bottle of what she assumed was ale to his lips. "You're a pretty thing." He went on when she didn't say anything and she rolled her eyes before making to walk past him. His hand shot out, his palm roughly connecting with the wall in front of her to keep her from going any further and she met his eyes once more and threw him a look of genuine irritation. He only smiled at her reaction. "How much?" 

Her mouth fell open at his disgusting words. "What are you- I am not a whore." She snapped at him and he exhaled a laugh at her response. "Everyone's got a price honey." He said, leaning in to close some of the distance between them. But before he could, her hand connected harshly with his cheek. So much so, that it turned to the side from the impact and her mind registered the stinging in her own palm. But that hardly mattered because she suddenly found herself on the floor, both of her hands clutching at the left side of her face that was now burning with pain. 

"Doesn't feel so good, does it? You little slut." He spat and she looked up through eyes that were now blurry with tears from the stinging pain to see him glaring daggers as he towered over her. Both of their attention was stolen by the sound of Brynjolf's voice and Marianne's eyes widened when she looked over and saw his large arms wrapped around Mercer's biceps, holding him back. His blade was drawn and though he wasn't saying anything at all, the murderous look in his eyes spoke volumes of his intentions. Brynjolf was as huge as the man in front of her but the anger rolling off Mercer somehow seemed to close some of the gap between their sizes. Delvin appeared at her side just as the tears fell from her eyes and he pulled her to her feet. 

"Gods' sake man. Don't you have a mother?" He spat venomously as he wrapped his arms around her, caging her in his protective embrace. Both of her hands still held the side of her face and she could feel the heat of her aching skin beneath her hands. Her breathing was slow and shaky but she reveled in the safety of Delvin's arms. 

"You're dead." Mercer told him. His voice sounding as calm as she'd ever heard it and that is what terrified her the most of all. The man seemed almost thrilled to hear those words and he drew his own blade of sharpened steel before Delvin was quickly pulling her away from him, toward Mercer and Brynjolf. It hit her that Mercer had every intention of fighting this man and she was suddenly awash with fear. Both for his safety and for the repercussions if he was successful. One of her small hands grabbed for his cotton covered forearm when she and Delvin reached him. He didn't even have the added protection of his guild leathers and the Nord across from them was adorned in thick leather from the neck down. 

"Don't." She pleaded though he did not meet her eyes. He kept his eyes on the Nord wielding a blade across the room. "Take her to her room, Delvin." He said, in that same calm voice of his. A sick feeling rose in her at the sound of it. A picture appeared in her mind of Mercer in the Windhelm cell, his wrists bound in thick rope and awaiting punishment for the crime of murder. "Don't Mercer. You'll be arrested." She pleaded through her tears. But again, he did not look at her. "Time to go, luv." Delvin said before he pulled her away from Mercer, away from Brynjolf and towards the other set of stairs on the opposite side of the second floor despite her protests. 

It was quiet as they descended the stairs and Marianne didn't know what she would hate more, the silence or the sound of fighting. "Delvin, you can't think this is a good idea." She pleaded with the older Breton when they came to a stop outside her rented room. "Open the door, luv." Was his response and she frowned. The hand that wasn't busy holding her still stinging face dug into the pocket of her pants to retrieve her key. Delvin took it from her and immediately unlocked the door before ushering her inside. He told her to sit tight and that he would have her dinner brought to her by the cook. With that said, he left her there in her room. To wait and to worry. 

She was really beginning to hate Windhelm.


	19. The Windhelm Job (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..  
> I never intended for the Windhelm job to extend past two chapters. Unfortunately, each chapter got away from me (especially this one!) and now it's been extended to four. Their time in Windhelm will be wrapped up in the next chapter though. I promise!

The cook arrived, half an hour or so later and brought her a tray full of food. A bowl full of a vegetable soup, a thick piece of bread and another bowl full of fruit. Also on the tray was a tankard of wine that beheld a deep purple color. Marianne sat at the small table that was tucked in the corner of her small room at the foot of her bed and picked at the offered items as best she could while she worried endlessly about what was happening, or what already happened between Mercer and the Nord stranger upstairs. 

The first thing she'd done after Delvin left her was heal her face with her restoration magic. The skin was angry and red when she looked into the cracked hand mirror she retrieved from her backpack. It was one of her nicer things, even with the split running down the length of the reflective glass. The hand mirror was one of the first items she ever stole outside of the orphanage back in Leyawiin. She'd taken it right off a table on her way out of the general goods shop. 

Marianne considered it, one of her more bold shoplifting moves. It took a lot of confidence to pull off such a nonchalant act and get away with it and she quickly learned that it was leagues easier to steal things while others were distracted. The crack in the glass came when she was sneaking out of an inn back in the Imperial City. The very same night, or very early morning rather that she watched a very attractive guard dress himself in layers of tunics and chainmail, she tossed her backpack over the side of the balcony before she climbed down and she discovered the crack in the mirror the very next day. She never could bring herself to throw it away though. It was still nice, despite it's large flaw. The mirror itself was oval shaped and the metal that bordered the glass and made up the stem was a smooth silver. There were no fancy embellishments or designs but it was still one of her favorite belongings. 

Marianne drained half her tankard of wine before a soft knocking at her door abruptly tore her out of her thoughts. Immediately, she rose from her chair to answer it, damn near desperate to hear any sort of news. Her lips parted in surprise when she laid her eyes upon the man behind her door. "Mercer?" She asked, almost not believing what her eyes were seeing. He entered her room wordlessly and shut the door behind himself before his hands were on her face. Her back was against the wall beside her door and her breath caught in her throat at the sudden warmth that engulfed her face. Mercer's gentle touch was a stark contrast to the brutal treatment she received from another an hour or so prior. 

One of his hands brushed her nearly dried locks behind her to expose the left side of her face to him. "I healed it." She told him when she realized what he was looking for with light blue eyes full of concern. "Just checking.. Marianne." The back of his fingers grazed her cheek while he spoke and her eyes fluttered of their own accord. His touch was a comfort unrivalled and one that she could not deny. She released a contented sigh, her body responding automatically to his words and touches and the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile at her reaction. His eyes finally met hers and something akin to affection shone in them as he looked at her. The memory of what she witnessed upstairs came flooding back then and she was suddenly awash with concern for the man in front of her. "Are you alright?" She asked him while looking him over. 

His brown hair was damp, wetting the shoulders of the off white shirt he was wearing. Which, she realized, was not the same one he started the day in. He'd.. bathed. "I'm fine." He said cooly and it suddenly clicked for her that the fact that he was standing before her, freshly bathed must have meant that he really did kill that man. Yet, here he was, his tone as even as if he were discussing the weather. He must have caught the change in her demeanor because his jaw went tight. "Mercer.. did-" 

"Don't ask me." He said firmly. "Unless you're sure you want to know." A deep crease planted itself in her brow as she struggled to come to terms with what happened. He didn't need to say it, the evidence in front of her proved it well enough. His hands lingered where they were on her face, lending warmth to her skin and she drew a deep breath before she spoke again. "Are you going to be arrested?" She asked him seriously and he shook his head. "No. Windhelm still honors the old ways. He was more than willing to lift his own blade, regardless of the outcome." He said and she nodded, her hands finally moving for the first time as they rose and her eyes followed the movement til they came to a stop on the warm muscles of his upper chest. The thin layer of cotton now the only thing keeping her from feeling his skin against hers and a light blush filled in her cheeks at that particular thought. 

So many thoughts were swirling in her mind but one stood out the most. What would her father say? The honest answer to that, she didn't know. Mercer had killed this night, but so had she taken a life herself. And though he hurt her heart and she now knew what he was capable of, she still didn't consider him a bad man. He was definitely not perfect. But if the fact that he was willing to kill a man for laying a hand on her was anything to go by, he was far from wicked. Another part of her mind registered that despite everything he'd done, she still yearned for him just as strongly.

The hand on the left side of her face moved to grab her chin between his thumb and index finger. He pulled her face up, forcing her to meet his eyes again. A few seconds of silence ticked by before he spoke again. "I'm sorry Marianne." He said solemnly. "For making you think you meant nothing to me. I lied to you and I was wrong for that." Her lips parted in surprise from his words. Deep down it was something she wanted to hear him say all along. For him to confirm what Brynjolf had said and finally ease her broken heart. Another part of her mind registered the fact that she'd never once heard Mercer apologize, ever. Not for anything he'd done, wrong or otherwise. But it just seemed too easy. 

"And are you saying that, because you think I'll sleep with you?" She asked, her eyes welling with involuntary tears. His own eyes closed briefly, as if he could somehow shield himself from the sight of her crying and he let out a long exhale before he met her eyes again. "No." He told her, while the thumb of his left hand stroked the length of her cheekbone in a touch that was so gentle and soft that it was now forever seared into the deepest parts of her memory. "But I can see why you believe that to be true." He admitted with a frown. He inhaled deeply once more before he spoke again. "I'm saying it, because I want to make amends and I want you to be mine." 

Though he still had a firm grip on her chin, her eyes dropped as far as they could go and landed on the coarse stubble that covered the length of his jaw. Those sharp hairs, just barely poking through his flesh that felt divine when they scratched and scraped against her delicate skin. She stared at them as she considered his words. He wanted her, exclusively. And while deep down, it was something she'd wanted since their first night together, a small part of her mind doubted the validity of his words. "What changed your mind?" She asked him, her hands clutching the thinly woven cotton of his tunic, as if she could somehow keep him there if he attempted to leave. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and whether it was at her actions or his own thoughts she wasn't sure. "Brynjolf. That man has been persistently reminding me of my mistake for months now." He said before drawing a deep breath. "I would explain myself. But the reason why I denied myself you is not a pleasant one and I'd rather not delve into that while on a job. When we return to Riften, I will tell you the story. If you'll hear it." She looked up into those light blue eyes and could see a deep pain there. Her right hand left the warmth of his chest to cup his cheek. Here Mercer was, apologizing and asking her to be his and even offering her an out, to refuse him if that's what she wanted. And though her mind was still shadowed by doubt, she knew at least one thing to be true. She wanted him.

With her mind as made up as it could possibly be for now, she answered him. "I'll hear it." She told him and watched as the muscles in his face relaxed. The hand that was still warming her cheek moved to the back of her head, his fingers easily sliding between the still damp tresses. His other hand left her chin to wrap around her back before pulling her closer, til they were nearly pressed against each other and her breathing hitched for the sudden closeness. "And what of being mine?" He asked, in that voice of his while keeping his eyes locked on hers. Their closeness meant that his exhale now rolled down her neck, the sensation fanning the flame of her desire that never truly waned and she released a breathy exhale before she answered him.

"I think.." She started while her hand moved from his cheek to his own still wet locks. Her fingertips toyed with the slightly curled ends that dampened the tops of his shoulders. "I think I've been yours for a while Mercer." She confessed before he pulled her closer, leaning down til his lips lightly brushed against hers in the barest of kisses. "Forgive me." He breathed before finally, his lips came down on hers. 

It was slow at first. Warm lips gently moving against each other while hands lazily explored all they could feel through thin cotton. His fingers digging deeply into her back, causing her to arch into him and her lips parted in a slight gasp when the hand in her hair formed a tight fist against their roots. His tongue took the opportunity to plunge into her mouth, greedily exploring her own tongue and she moaned into the feeling, surrendering herself to him and everything he would give her. Though their movements were slow, the erratic pounding of her heart against her ribcage more than gave away her desperate need for the strong man that was holding her. And when her right hand came to a stop on his chest, she could feel his own heart beating just as strongly as hers beneath her palm. And those eyes of his, usually the brightest of blues were nearly black from the widening of his pupils and she knew, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. 

He broke their kiss to look at the flushed, panting woman that clung to him in his arms. She made the first move, her small hands grabbing for the thin cotton that was tucked into the waistband of his pants. She pulled it free before her hands dove beneath the fabric, landing on the warm skin of his muscular abdomen. The muscles there clenched under her delicate touch and her mind suddenly registered the feeling of the wall behind her as she was pressed against it while his tongue was once again moving with hers, this time at a feverish pace and she moaned deeply for it. 

The warmth of his hands left her long enough to help her discard his cotton tunic and when the soft fabric connected lightly with the floorboards, his mouth was back on hers. His hands immediately began pulling at her own shirt and she let him. Once her green tunic joined the one on the floor and the warmth of his hands returned to her skin, a deep groan reached her ears as his hands began to grab and grope at what little her bare chest had to offer. Her head tilted back against the wooden wall behind her as she reveled in the hungry sounds her body elicited from him, the movement exposing the length of her neck to him and Mercer wasted no time bringing his lips down on her heated skin.

Her breathing hitched when open mouthed kisses covered the expanse of her neck, til he found a suitable place to mark her. His lips closing tightly around the skin at the base of her neck and he suckled deeply, the blood immediately rising to just beneath her skin and she moaned deeply for it. Satisfied with the mark, his mouth released her skin with a gentle pop before closing around her skin in another spot, higher on her neck and his name left her lips in a breathy sigh when he repeated the motion, marking her again. 

A deep ache was making itself known between her legs, made even more urgent when he suddenly pressed his hips against hers, effectively trapping her between his strong body and the wall behind her and he was rewarded by another moan. Again, his name left her lips, this time a plea. One he heeded and he pulled her away from the wall, his mouth moving against hers as he did and the next thing Marianne registered, was the fur blanket beneath her. He broke their kiss, pulling back to remove her boots. The sound of them falling to the floor nearly went unnoticed by her mind that was preoccupied, filled to the brim with all things Mercer. The feeling of his hands and mouth on her body, his musky scent invading her, the way he looked at her, it was all too much. Her body was near trembling with barely contained need by the time her trousers hit the floor. 

Instead of undressing himself like she expected him to, he climbed on the rented mattress, spreading her legs before he settled between them. A sudden intake of breath invaded her lungs when she realized what he was about to do. His eyes flashed to hers and she could do nothing but watch as his lips returned to her skin. He started beside her knee, a warm open-mouthed kiss planted itself on the skin there before he pulled away only to place another one and another one. Each one bringing him closer to where she ached for him most. But it was when his mouth latched onto the skin of her inner thigh and he once again suckled her skin to mark her that she audibly begged him. Moaning and chanting her pleas that were immediately rewarded with a slow drag of his thick tongue up the length of her already dripping slit. The effect was immediate, her head arching back against the pillow while her hips lifted of their own accord, desperately searching for the attention she so badly craved.

"Mercer.." She whined, her eyes fluttering from the light pleasure that flooded her body. Her reaction was rewarded by the feeling of his warm and thick tongue entering her, exploring her as deep as he could. She gasped and moaned form the feeling, her hands grabbing for the fur blanket, bunching it into tight fists as pleasure climbed up her spine from his ministrations. Her breathing became labored, only the feeling of his fingers pressing deeply and painfully into her thighs kept her anchored in reality as her pleasure climbed higher and higher. Her soft whimpers and whines only encouraged him more and his tongue left her so two thick fingers could take it's place and she cried out at their intrusive pumping. "How does it feel, Marianne?" He asked her, the sound of her name on his lips only adding to the euphoria that was coiling itself deeply into the pit of her belly with each passing second. "So good, Mercer. So.. so good." She responded breathlessly, her body moving against his thick digits inside her. 

"Good girl." He cooed and she gasped, arching her back from the pleasure between her legs, only made better by the praise on his lips. His tongue returned to the junction between her legs, pressing firm circles into her swollen clit and her body sang it's praise in the form of a mind shattering orgasm. It washed over her, whiting her vision and igniting her nerves with a deep, unrivalled pleasure that made her toes curl tightly and had her crying out. His name left lips, over and over again until the last wave of pleasure ebbed away and she was left nearly boneless on the fur blanket beneath her. 

A moment of bliss passed while she bathed in the afterglow of her orgasm. She opened her eyes to the feeling of the mattress dipping beside her. Mercer was hovering above her, his own trousers now discarded, his fully erect cock on full display and she was once again impressed by the sheer thickness of it. Remembering how deliciously his thick muscle stretched her had her moaning at the sight of it and Mercer's own eyes were hungrily raking over her in a way that stoked the fire that had dimmed in her belly but was not yet extinguished. A smile lit her face and she rose from the fur blanket to capture his lips with her own. She tasted herself on his lips and she moaned again when his teeth sharply nipped at her bottom lip. He pulled away, releasing her lip as he did. His own breathing was now labored and she knew he was desperate for his own release. Her hands grabbed for him, to pull him down but he made no move to join her. Instead, the corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk before he laid down beside her on the mattress and pulled her on top to straddle him.

The effect was a deep blush that pooled in her cheeks and chest. It was not a position she had taken before and the amused look on his face told her that her own expression gave that away. "First time?" He asked, his smirk still firmly in place and her blush deepened before she nodded. "That's alright.." He cooed sweetly while his hands slid up her thighs. "I think you'll find this position agreeable to us both." He said, punctuating his words with a firm press of his thumb against her swollen clit. A sharp gasp was ripped from her while her hips bucked against the length of his hard cock from the jolt of pleasure and he grinned. "Good girl. Now do that with me inside you." 

A breathy exhale left her before Mercer, who was apparently done with waiting, wrapped one of his large hands around her hip, pushing her up. She lifted off him just enough for him to position himself at her opening and her eyes stayed locked on his face while his now free hand grabbed her other hip in a firm grip. Her mouth dropped open, a wordless cry ripped from her as he pulled her down the length of his cock, his thickness stretching and filling her in a way it hadn't the first time. The new angle brought him deeper, til she was completely full of him, so much so that she barely heard his deep groan of pleasure over the blood rushing in her ears. 

A firm press of his thumb against her clit was motivation enough for her to drag herself up the length of his cock while the hand that lingered on her hip roughly guided her back down against his pelvis. Her palms were flat against the taut muscles of his abdomen to brace herself while she began to move freely against him. His thumb continued to press at her clit each time she sank down on him and she moaned deeply from the pleasure as her arousal dripped down his length to rest in his curls. "Mercer.." She whined, now bouncing against his lap in wild abandon as she chased the euphoria that was fastly approaching. 

"Mercer, I'm close." She announced after a particularly deep groan of his reached her ears. "Not yet." He said before rising from the blanket, his fingers left her clit for his arm to wrap around her, pulling her closer til the coarse hairs that were scattered across his chest grazed her nipples as she continued to move against him. He was meeting her, thrust for thrust now which was doing no favors in stopping her orgasm. Her body was buzzing with the pleasure that stemmed from their combined bodies, that fire in her belly coiling tighter and tighter and her head fell back as she approached the precipice of bliss.

He stilled her so abruptly that it took a few seconds for her mind to catch up to the fact that her orgasm was just brought to a halt. But once it did, she was immediately alarmed at the feeling of her pleasure slipping away by the second and she desperately tried to move her hips against his despite his firm grip keeping her in place. "Mercer." She whined breathlessly, only for a firm smirk to appear on his face. "I said not yet, Marianne." He said sweetly, his warm breath hitting her face and she took shaky breaths to recover from having her pleasure stolen from her. "Please." She breathed before he captured her lips with his own. Her hands found his shoulders while his mouth moved against hers. She moaned loudly when he started pulling her against him again. Starting at a tortuously slow pace. He controlled her hips, keeping her movements slow before he allowed her to increase her pace.

She tore her lips away from his. "Mercer." She whined as her orgasm started to build up again. She gasped when he roughly thrust up into her, hitting her cervix and bringing with it a type of pain that only heightened her pleasure. Pleased with her reaction, he snapped his pelvis roughly against hers each time she sank down on him and she cried out, her voice rewarding him for his efforts. Her nails pressed deeply into the flesh of his shoulders as she rapidly approached the edge again. "Mercer, please.." She begged, her body once again buzzing with pleasure. If he would only let her fall over the edge..

"Such a good girl." He cooed and she whined needily, praying to whatever gods may exist that he wouldn't still her hips again. His hand left her hip to grab her jaw in a vice grip and he forced her to meet his stare. "Come for me, Marianne." He said and she instantly came undone. She cried out as pleasure exploded throughout her body, her every nerve coming alive and singing it's praise while he fucked her through her intense orgasm. 

Her body was limp in his arms when she came back to her senses, her arms laying useless between them. Suddenly and without warning, she found herself on her back and his hand returned to her jaw. His fingers pressed deeply, painfully into her skin and she whined as her mouth was forced open enough for his tongue to slip in. It claimed hers, moving aggressively against her own while he snapped his hips into hers, chasing his own end. His hand moved to her chest where he grabbed and groped and what she had to offer him. Skilled fingers tugged and teased her nipples until they hardened painfully under his touch. He tore his mouth from hers, breathing heavily as he nipped at the delicate flesh of her neck and although she had already come twice, her hips still moved against his of their own accord. "Taking my cock so well.. gods." Mercer groaned, his voice hoarse from lust. "Fuck, Marianne. Say you're mine." He demanded. Once again her mind was preoccupied with the pleasure that stemmed from their combined bodies and she barely registered his request. 

She cried out when a sudden yank of her hair caught her off guard, bringing her back to reality with a delicious pain that only added to her mounting pleasure. "Say it, Marianne." He nearly growled and her body clenched tightly around him in response to his demand. Her arms came around him, her nails digging into the flesh of his back and she was rewarded with a deep groan of approval. "Yours." She breathed while his cock pistoned in and out of her at a brutal pace. "Mercer, I'm yours." She whined from the pleasure building in her nerves. He must have noticed because his eyes closed tightly and he lowered his head against her chest as he increased his pace. "Fuck, Marianne." He groaned, snapping his hips against hers with a renewed vigor to make her come again. 

It didn't take long. She was already sensitive from her previous orgasms. A few well positioned thrusts against her cervix and another sharp yank of her hair had her crying out, her body clenching around his thick muscle as she came for the third time. Her toes curled tightly, her back arching off the furs as her orgasm ripped through her body, wiping her mind clean of everything but the pleasure she felt rushing through her nerves. 

Mercer was already collapsed beside her when she came back to herself and the flesh of her abdomen had already been painted by thick ropes of his warm come. Deep breaths invaded her lungs while they recovered from their combined efforts. Moments later, eyes that she had no memory of closing fluttered open from the shifting in the mattress beside her. A rush of fear washed over her when Mercer sat up. Her breath caught audibly in her throat and he looked over at the sound of her soft gasp, meeting her eyes and reading her face before he frowned. "I'm not leaving." He assured her and she watched him grab the candlestick off the bedside table. A sharp exhale extinguished the two flames and bathed half the room in darkness. 

Another candle burned from it's place on the small table still housing half her dinner but neither moved to extinguish it. With the room comfortably dim, she watched Mercer return to his place beside her. After settling the fur blanket over them he pulled her against him, his arms caging her in his steel embrace and she clung to him, releasing a contented sigh when his lips pressed firmly against her forehead. It was quiet for a long moment, save for the lulling sound of his steadily beating heart beneath her ear. "I suppose you have even less faith in me than I thought." He said, his voice cutting through the silence of the room and though her lips parted to speak, no sound left her. 

With her lack of a response hanging in the air, he released a deep sigh before his lips came down on her forehead again. When his mouth left her skin she lifted her head, resting her chin on the back of her hand on his chest so she could meet his eyes. "That's only part of it." She admitted and his eyes roamed her face, searching for the words she hadn't said. "Tell me what else." He said and she sighed. So much had changed since he came to her and she hadn't had time enough to process much of it thanks to their combined desire. She wasn't regretful, but a relationship was new territory for Marianne, especially with the anger she still felt towards him. "I've never belonged to anyone before. And you know the stories always end when the man gets the woman. It never shows what comes next. What if I don't get it right?" She said seriously and a genuine smile stretched across his face.

"Tomorrow we're commiting a crime." He said cooly. "The day after, another crime, transportation of stolen goods. After that, we'll probably spend a day or so in my bed. Beyond that, I'm not sure. But I bet I can think of a few things to keep us busy." A wide smile lit up her face at his words and she lifted herself enough to meet his lips with her own. He kissed her back, his mouth eagerly moving against hers and she moaned at the feeling of his cock beginning to harden beneath her thigh. It was all the motivation he needed to flip them, til he was once again above her, his light blue eyes looking at her in a way that had her hips lifting on their own. He was ready, already positioning himself at her entrance and she moaned into their kiss when he pushed his cock back inside her to have her again.


	20. The Windhelm Job (Part 4)

"Mercer, I can't hide these!" Marianne snapped, irritation flooding through her at the sight of herself in the mirror she held in her left hand. The fingertips of her free hand were pressed against the dark red welts he'd caused on the side of her neck. With his lack of a response, she turned around to face him. Both of his arms were propped up on the edge of the tub, the thick muscles on full display while he lingered in the still hot water. His hair was freshly washed and pushed back, away from his face and he was smirking at her. 

"Good. Now everyone will know you're mine." He said and she let out a huff before she shot him an unimpressed look. "That's what this is," She asked, pointing her index finger at the large red spots on her neck. "you.. marking your territory, like some kind of animal?" He threw his head back and released a throaty laugh at her expense. She rolled her eyes when he looked back at her. "Come here, Marianne.." He cooed and she narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll show you an animal." He punctuated his words by raising his hand and curling his index finger towards himself. She pursed her lips while a grin stretched his face. "Beast is more like it. If I didn't know better, I would think you a Nord." She quipped before turning away from him to set her mirror down on the lone table the bath house had to offer. She reached for her clothes and began dressing, donning her guild-given leather pants and a thick brown tunic that she hoped would help stave away the wintry Windhelm air.

Water sloshed in the tub and she looked over her shoulder to see Mercer beginning to dry himself with a thick towel. Watching the muscles in his thick arms flex from the motion stirred feelings of desire deep in her belly. He looked up, catching her eyes and threw her a smirk before he stepped closer, throwing an arm around her to pull her into him. The sudden closeness had her pulse quickening as did the look in his eyes. "Keep looking at me like that Marianne and I'll show you just how beastly I can be." The effect of his words was an immediate blush that sprouted in her cheeks and blossomed in her chest and she was suddenly aware of a firm bulge pressing against her lower abdomen. 

Though she would love nothing more than to join her body with his again, it would have to wait. Mercer's appetite the night before was damn near insatiable and she was left feeling rather tender between the legs from his vigorous efforts. Her eyes dropped to his shoulders before she answered him. "I need a little break." She said, her blush deepening at her own words. "Tonight." She promised and he exhaled a laugh before he turned her around, bringing both of his arms around her to hold her tightly against his muscular chest. He leaned down, til his lips brushed against the tip of her ear and spoke in a low voice. "We'll be on the road again tonight." He said, the gentle grazing of his lips on her ear caused a shiver to run up her spine. Her eyes fluttered, a breathy exhale leaving her as a rush of arousal shot straight to her loins. "Would you prefer a bedroll, or the grass?" 

"You want to.. outside?" She asked him without trying to hide the surprise in her tone. He exhaled a laugh against her ear, the feeling making her insides quiver before he answered. "It's not so much different than an inn. Though I doubt there will be as many listening ears." He said, amusement clear in his tone. "You're rather loud you know." Her lips parted in surprise at his admission, her blush deepening at the thought of others listening to their lovemaking. She turned in his arms to face him and he was sporting a wide, teasing grin. He was enjoying this too much and her eyes narrowed before the palm of her hand connected with his chest in a light swat that only made his smile widen. "A beast. Just as I said." She told him with a poke of her index finger at his chest. He snickered before he released her and went about the task of dressing himself. 

Though they'd been up less than an hour, it was already well after mid-day. And Marianne was more than elated to find Mercer still in bed with her when she opened her eyes. A small part of her mind worried after all that they had done, if he wouldn't have another change of heart and be gone when she woke. But he stayed like he said he would and her heart swelled for it. Marianne quickly decided that waking up with Mercer, in a tangled mess of warm limbs and blankets, was her favorite way to wake up. Made all the better from the lingering bliss from her many orgasms. Though he was rough, he was a very generous lover and by the time he finally exhausted himself she'd already lost track of how many times he made her come. 

With the two of them freshly bathed and dressed warmly, they left the bathhouse and took their belongings to the second floor of the inn. Marianne didn't know about Mercer but she was definitely starving from all the physical activity and she couldn't wait to eat. Apparently the plan was to linger at the inn, even repurchasing their rooms though they wouldn't need them because once the festivities started, they would go straight to work clearing the thane's house of all valuables. 

When they reached the second floor, Mercer led her to the table in the far corner. It was smaller than the others and more private. The bard was on the opposite side of the room softly strumming a lyric-less tune on his lute. When they reached the table, she noticed Delvin was already there. A tankard of what she assumed was mead sat in front of him and both of his hands were occupied by a small leather bound book he was writing in. He looked up on their approach, giving Mercer a look she couldn't quite decipher before turning his attention back to what looked to be a very tiny ledger. 

Though Windhelm was by far Marianne's least favorite place in Skyrim thus far and her experience the night before aside, the inn was very nice. The owner's wife stoked the fireplace, bringing more warmth into the room before she made her way over to their table. Marianne ordered a wine to compliment her dinner and Mercer chose a mead for his. Their drinks arrived right away and the food followed just a few moments later. It was a thick stew with large pieces of root vegetables that were cooked long enough for the flavors to mix. The thick piece of garlic bread Marianne was served went straight into her stew, despite the curious glance Delvin shot her. "It's good." She assured him while she picked the large piece of break apart with her fork, mixing it thoroughly into the stew. At least, she thought it was good. But then again, Marianne would eat just about anything.

"Where's Brynjolf?" Marianne asked the Breton across the table form her before bringing a large bite of the stew and bread to her mouth. It was heavily flavored with fennel and sage, made all the better by the garlic bread lending it's flavor to the mix. Delvin scoffed. "Probably trying to catch up on the sleep none of us got last night thanks to the two of you." He said gruffly and Marianne's cheeks instantly flamed a deep red color. Mercer laughed, seemingly unbothered by their coupling being common knowledge. Which, was probably a good thing but she was far too embarrassed to think of it that way in the moment. 

Brynjolf did arrive, an hour or so later and the four of them lingered in the inn for the duration of the afternoon. She spent her time reading her thick tome on conjuring while the men quietly discussed guild business. When the windows were dark and the inn was bustling with nighttime patrons, the four of them rose from their respective table and exited the large building. It was snowing, as was common for Windhelm and Marianne pulled her cloak tighter around herself for it. They took their time, walking lazily through the streets til they reached the more fancy residential block belonging to the most prominent citizens of Windhelm. 

Mercer had been right, she hadn't spotted a single guard patrolling the streets. All of them too busy running security at the palace to protect the well off nobility. They entered the massive estate through a back door and Marianne was more than relieved to be greeted by the intense warmth. The fireplace that stood in the center of the far wall burned brightly, looking recently stoked. "What about the servants?" She whispered to Brynjolf while the other two men were already going to work rifling through desk drawers and a nearby bookshelf. The large estate was lovely, even nicer than Mercer's and definitely the nicest house Marianne had ever stepped foot in. 

"They're not live-ins." He answered, his voice in a normal volume. "Come on, you and me are upstairs." He said, tilting his head towards the massive staircase that would lead to the second floor of the estate. She followed his lead and ascended the stairs behind him. The rail was a smooth finished wood that looked heavily polished and the stairs themselves were equally as nice. The second floor was just as massive as the first and when Marianne reached the top of the stairs, she was greeted by a large open space. One of the walls were lined with mannequins donning several sets of armors. The wall opposite that housed a dozen or so glass weapon cases, each one looking full to burst with different weapons. 

Brynjolf appeared holding a large, thickly-woven pillowcase out for her. "Get to work." He said and she smiled before taking the makeshift bag. He started at the mannequins, so she decided to take the weapon cases. Which were unlocked, she happily discovered when the first lid opened right up. "So, who's the thane of Windhelm anyway? I didn't see him when I posed as a cook." She said while shoving a rather fancy looking sheathed dagger into the pillow case. "Some layabout named Calder." Brynjolf answered and she exhaled a laugh. "Calder? Really? There's no way that's his real name." She said and he shot her a grin. "You said the same thing about mine, you know." He teased and her smile widened.

"Yeah, cause yours sounds made up too." She said and he laughed before she turned her attention back to the weapon cases. Under Brynjolf's instruction, she only took the nicest ones to leave space in her bag for other things she might find. And she quickly discovered why the job required so many people. The thane of Windhelm was a very rich man and had a lot of nice things. When she reached the bedroom, she was more than surprised at how nice it was. There was a large, four post bed on the far side of the room. A dresser and walk-in closet to her left while the right side of the room housed a makeshift office. She made her way to the desk and began looking for anything that looked important in the drawers. Her eyes widened when she opened the second drawer only to find it full of gems. She called out softly to Brynjolf who she hoped still lingered upstairs. 

"Find something good, lass?" He asked when he poked his head in the room and she waved him over. She sat on her legs on the floor beside the low drawer and watched as Brynjolf's own eyes widened at the sight of all the gems. He picked one up, holding it close to a pillar candle that burned on the top of the desk and his eyes formed a tight squint as he examined the large ruby. After turning it over a few times he scoffed. "They're fake. The slimy bastard." He muttered, disappointment clear in his tone as he tossed the gem back into the drawer. "Sorry." she told him, feeling rotten for getting his hopes up. He assured her that it wasn't her fault before leaving her to clear out the room by herself. 

It took the four of them a good hour before the men were satisfied with the amount of loot they'd stolen. In total, they had a good six pillowcases full of stolen goods and Marianne was elated to learn that she wouldn't have to carry a single one. Not that she could since they were all quite literally stuffed to the brim with heavy loot. When they left the large manor and were once again greeted by the icy Windhelm air, they split up. Marianne stayed with Mercer at his request and they took different routes through the city to the grey quarters own gate. It led to the docks where a rented boat sat, waiting for them and once they were all aboard, Delvin and Mercer rowed them across the lake. It all happen so fast, from the thievery to the getaway and it was all executed perfectly. Marianne supposed that it was just one of the perks of working with the guild's best members. And she couldn't believe she was being paid five hundred gold pieces for basically doing nothing but filling up a bag. 

The air was colder on the lake and she hugged her cloak around her tighter for it. It took a long time for the small boat to make it's way across the dark lake and by the time they reached the snowy shore, Marianne was practically frozen solid from it. The men carried the large bags to the stables that were about a hundred or so paces away and they immediately hid them inside the crates on the carriage. With fingers stiffened from the cold, bud determined to help do her part, she helped Brynjolf secure the two horses to their harnesses. Once that was done, he took the seat up front as he usually did and Marianne boarded the carriage in the back. She was a little wary about travelling at night, especially with what they were carrying but if the previous night was anything to go by, she knew the men around her would keep her safe. 

She took her previous seat, right beside Mercer. Except this time, instead of allowing a foot or so of space between them, he pulled her in close and covered her with his own cloak to help keep her warm. "Ready to go home?" He asked when she met his eyes and a wide smile lit her face at his question. Riften really had become her home and the guild her family and she couldn't wait to return with Mercer now that she was his. Though it was dark inside the tented carriage, she could see the whites of his teeth from his wide smile when she nodded in answer. He pulled her closer then and she would swear her heart skipped a beat when he laced the fingers of his hand through hers. His hand was much larger than hers, nearly covering hers completely but she found that she rather enjoyed the feeling. She'd never held a man's hand before and she was more than glad that it was dark inside the carriage, otherwise her fiery blush would be on display for all to see. 

While the carriage started it's journey back to Riften she relaxed into Mercer's arms and considered how much had changed over the past few days. It was enough to make her head spin but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't partial to the outcome. And she realized, the more invested she became in Riften and Mercer, joining the college was appealing to her less and less. Even being away from Brynjolf had caused her heart to suffer when she avoided him. For the first time in a long time, Marianne had roots and they ran deep beneath the streets of Riften. 

What that meant for her future, she honestly didn't know. But she did know, leaving Riften for good was unfathomable at this point. Her thoughts ran circles around each other until the steady sound of Mercer's heart against her ear and the gentle rocking of the carriage finally lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	21. The Past And The Future

When Marianne opened her eyes, the first thing she registered was how bright it was. Bright, morning light poured in from the glass window and illuminated the large bedroom. Then she realized how warm she was. After that, the memory of her and Mercer's lovemaking came back and a soft, blissful moan escaped her at the lingering euphoria she felt. A light groan sounded in her ear before the thick arm around her tightened. "Keep moaning like that Marianne and see what happens." A smile lit her face when he punctuated his words with a firm press of his hips behind her.

A soft sigh left her when his lips connected with her hair. A large hand found it's way to hers, fingers lacing with hers, encompassing her small hand in a firm grasp and her smile returned for it. The past few mornings had been spent much the same way, with Marianne wrapped up in Mercer's arms between those lovely silk sheets and in no hurry to start the day. They returned from their trip to Windhelm nearly a week ago now and while Marianne was still waiting for Mercer to explain himself, she also knew better than to push the issue. She was doing her best to trust that he would and left it up to him to broach the subject.

They stayed that way, cuddled together and caressed by silk for a long while. One thing Marianne loved about being with Mercer was that they could just enjoy each others company without filling the silence with mindless chatter. Just being around him made her heart swell in ways it never had before. She could easily stay locked in his steel embrace all day but she knew he had a guild to run. So she enjoyed what alone time with him she was gifted. With a sigh, Mercer untangled himself from her and she she knew it was finally time to start the day. She watched as he left the bed and wrapped a robe around himself before he left the room, leaving the door open as he crossed the hall to his office.

Taking the opportunity to stretch, she reveled in the feeling of the soft silk sheets against her delicate skin before she sat up, letting the sheet fall away from her as she did. She could hear Mercer's voice call down the stairway, requesting a fresh bath from Nathaniel, his Imperial hired help. Shortly after he re-entered the room, closing the door behind him and Marianne had found herself still sitting in bed, rubbing at her eyes and not quite ready to get up. Her eyes met his and she was concerned by the way he was looking at her. "What's wrong?" She asked him, watching him sit on the edge of the mattress.

She wrapped the sheet firmly around her torso before she moved to the edge of the mattress. One of her hands found it's way to his shoulder and he took it into his own, bringing it into his lap. His thumb rubbed across the delicate skin of the back of her hand and he released a heavy sigh. "It's time we talked, like I promised." He said without meeting her eyes and she could see his expression had morphed into one of sadness. She bent one of her legs toward herself, leaving the other dangling off the side of the mattress as she turned to face him. She waited, patiently for him to start.

His free hand reached into the pocket of his robe and he retrieved a small wooden box. And though it was small, it was lovely. There was a large E engraved on the top and the wood was stained a deep brown color. He inhaled deeply before he spoke again. "You're not the first woman to come into my life. There was.. one other. Evelyn." He said before removing his hand from hers to open the box. He passed the small box to her and she took it with both hands and held it carefully as she looked inside. There were only two items in the box. One stood out immediately, a wedding ring with a large ruby set in the golden band. The other was a small, oval shaped piece of moonstone with a side portrait of a woman engraved into the stone. Her lips parted in surprise at what she saw inside the box and she looked up to see him carefully watching her. "You were married?" She asked and his lips pressed into a thin line before he answered. "No." He said and she could hear the sadness in his tone. "She was murdered before I asked her."

A sharp intake of breath invaded her lungs when his words reached her ears. "Oh, Mercer.." She said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." Marianne knew all too well how horrible it was to lose someone you love so tragically. And she was sure it was much worse when it was someone you'd willingly given your heart to. One of her more prominent memories was of her mother's death. It was the only time she could remember seeing her father cry and to think of Mercer going through the same thing broke her heart for him. Once more, his hand closed over hers and brought it into his lap. But this time, he held it firmly between both of his.

His eyes landed on their entwined hands, considering them before he spoke again. "We were on a job in Eastmarch. Evelyn and I, we were working with the previous Guildmaster and his.. _lover_." He said the word with more hatred in his voice than she'd ever heard from him. She listened quietly as he explained that the falmer eyes of Irkngthand were a legendary treasure, each one worth a fortune. It was already a dangerous job. The upper levels of the tower were occupied by bandits and there were some nasty creatures underground as well. Gallus spent a year preparing for the heist. A whole year his lover waited for her opportunity to strike, pretending to be in love with him so she could steal the eyes for herself.

"She killed them both." Mercer said, his voice strained and Marianne could feel the pain in his voice when he spoke. "Just like that, a man that damn near raised me and the woman I loved were gone. Slaughtered like lambs right in front of me. She nearly killed me too and for a while.. I wished she had." Tears were rolling down Marianne's cheeks when he met her eyes again. Her heart truly broke for him, she couldn't imagine how traumatizing it was for him to witness his loved ones being taken from him so brutally. At least when Marianne's own father died, she hadn't had to bear witness. It was still hard to accept, but she could at least maintain the fantasy that it was quick and he felt little pain. Mercer had been granted no such kindness and the thought of him suffering, cut into her like the sharpest of blades.

Her watery eyes fell to the still open box in her lap, her free hand reaching in for the moonstone carving. Though the carving was small, nearly half the size of Marianne's small palm, it was clear. The woman had high cheekbones and a sharp nose. Dozens of swirls coiled behind her, making up her curly hair. "She's beautiful." Marianne said before meeting his eyes again. Although a heavy sadness still lingered in his light blue eyes, the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile. "Not as beautiful as you." He said, his voice thick with emotion. "But she was, in her own way."

One of his hands left hers and he took the small stone from her other hand. His thumb ran over the engraving a few times before he spoke again. "She was a mercenary before she was a thief. She passed through Riften on her way to Cyrodiil for a job. We met on what was supposed to be her last night in town. Long story short, she never left. She was strong, fierce with a blade and would cut a man's throat if he looked at her the wrong way." He said with a smile that told her he was remembering good times. Though it quickly faded, morphing into an expression of pain. "I thought I'd get more time. It's been eighteen years now.. but I can still see her just as clear as if it were yesterday."

The hand still holding hers squeezed it tighter. "I never expected this would happen again. Didn't think it would be possible to.. care about another woman after Evelyn. Then Brynjolf brought you in, with that face and attitude of yours." He shot her a playful smirk before he took the small box from her lap and placed the carved stone back inside. Leaning over to the small bedside table, he tucked it inside the drawer there before he turned his attention back on her, taking her hands into his once more. "It was never my intention to hurt you. I only had second thoughts because you're.. delicate."

A deep crease appeared in her brow and her eyes fell to their newly entwined fingers while his words sunk in. It occured to her that he thought she was weak. That stung, more than she thought it could but deep down, she knew it was true. Marianne was no fighter. Hells, her recent run in with that bastard of a Nord back in Windhelm was proof enough of that. Her eyes then came to rest on the leather bracelets that still covered her wrists. The beautifully carved nightshade blossoms that perfectly hid the scars there, more evidence of her weakness. She'd always been weak and maybe, she always would be. "It's not a bad thing." He said and Marianne suddenly realized that her vision was blurry.

A humorless laugh found it's way out of her chest and she pulled her hands away from his. "Isn't it?" She said bitterly, wiping her tear stained cheek with the back of her hand. "You can't expect me to believe that being weak is a good thing." She said, looking back to him. He was shaking his head when she met his eyes. "You are not weak, Marianne." He said, his hands migrating to her wrists, holding each one in a firm grip and she frowned. "Your scars are proof of that. Proof of the things you've survived." Her eyes dropped to the decorated leather once more and she stared dejectedly at the flowers there. "I wish I didn't have proof." She admitted after a moment.

When she met his eyes again she could see the curiosity on his face. "I'm not going to force you to tell me." He said, the gentleness in his voice almost catching her off guard. "But I'd be lying if I said it hasn't weighed on my mind."

A memory came back to her then. Just months ago, she sat outside the stone mausoleum, pouring her heart out to Brynjolf because he said it would help. He'd been right. It did help to talk about it and maybe it would help now. A deep breath invaded her lungs before she started. "Well.. I used to be good with magic you know, when I was a child. I don't remember a lot but I remember my father was always proud of my spells. But.. Madame at the orphanage didn't like magic users. Said that we were wicked and if she caught us practicing.. she would bind our hands. She caught me a lot." She left it at that. He didn't need to know the details since that was basically the worst of it. Being slapped around was nothing compared to having your hands bound for sometimes days at a time. "That's why I'm trying to become a mage." She continued after a moment. "To come back from it and make my father proud of me. If that makes sense." She said.

A smile suddenly stretched his face, his light blue eyes lighting up with genuine amusement. "I can't figure out why you keep saying you want to become a mage. You already are one." He said and her expression melted from his words. "That flaming wolf I saw in the training room the other day is an apprentice level spell. And to celebrate.." He stopped short before he rose from the bed, pulling her hand so she would follow him. Her free hand held the silk sheet tightly against her body, the extra length trailing behind her while she crossed the large bedroom to Mercer's closet. Plush rugs cushioned her feet when she stood beside the Breton who's eyes now shone with a kind of excitement. His free hand opened the right door of the closet and Marianne's mouth instantly fell open when she saw what was hanging on the hook on the back of the door.

Both of her small hands cupped her cheeks while she gazed at the garment in front of her with wide eyes. It was something akin to a mages robe. But instead of a soft cotton, it was a dark blue leather resembling her guild's armour. The waist of the armored dress was decorated by an oblivion gate emblem that looked to be made up of a thin layer of crushed soul gems. It was the symbol of conjuration. The skirt of the dress had two slits in the front, no doubt due to Marianne's previous difficulty walking in simple dresses and she could see the soft black cotton pants underneath that would no doubt hug her skin perfectly. "It's a one of a kind." He told her confidently. "I started working on the design with Tonilia when I first saw you conjuring that dagger in the marketplace." Though she was damn near a state of shock, she shot him a look of confusion and he smirked. "You didn't see me there."

Her eyes went back to the garment still hanging on the hook and a look of almost pain crossed her face. It was too nice, definitely the nicest dress she'd ever laid her eyes on and she couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that he did this for her. "Do you like it?" Mercer asked, the uncertainty in his voice cutting through her thoughts more than his words. "It's beautiful." She said, meeting his eyes again and his expression immediately softened. He pulled her closer and his free hand found her cheek, her eyes fluttering when his thumb grazed the soft skin there. "Then it suits you." He told her and she nearly melted into the rug beneath her feet from the adoration she felt for him. He thought she was beautiful and she couldn't stop the wide smile that crossed her face at his admission.

He was too good to her and her smile quickly faded when she was suddenly struck with the fact that he was far better a man than she ever deserved. "I don't deserve you." She said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet and his grip on her tightened, almost painfully so and look of irritation crossed his face. "I think you've got that backwards." He said seriously. "You deserve the world, Marianne and I'm going to give it to you." His words rang clear with absolution before his lips came down hard against hers in a bruising kiss, cutting off any further ability to argue with him.

His hand left hers to loosen the sheet that still clung to her small frame, baring her to the cool air of the bedroom. Her nipples instantly hardened from the change in temperature. One of his hands roughly forced her mouth open and she moaned loudly when his tongue immediately caressed hers, beginning it's dominating dance against her own. His robe was discarded and her hands grabbed for him, roaming and exploring his wide, muscular chest as he walked them a few steps over to where the large dresser sat. He manipulated her body, so that her mouth was still connected with his over her shoulder but she was now facing the dresser. Her breathing was already hitched, her pulse racing throughout her body while desire flamed deep in the pit of her belly.

He was already hard and she cried out when she felt his hard cock rubbing her dripping folds, coating his length in her slick arousal. He placed her hands in front of herself on the dresser. Her palms were flat to brace herself against it. One of his hands found it's way to her hair, breaking their kiss and forcing her to face the large mirror in front of them. A deep blush pooled in her face when she saw their reflection. Both of them were flushed with arousal and Mercer, the way he was looking at her, his pupils blown wide with lust. It was too much and her eyes wrenched tightly shut for it. She could feel him positioning himself, the tip of his thick cock hesitating at her entrance.

The hand in her hair tightened, eliciting a whine for the sharp pain in her roots. "Watch us, Marianne." He demanded, his voice a low growl in her ear and reluctantly, she obeyed. No sooner had her eyes opened did he plunge the full length of his cock deep inside her, causing her to cry out from the pleasure that shot up her spine. Both of their faces twisting into one of pleasure at the feeling of their bodies becoming one. His brow was furrowed, the muscles in his face tight as they usually were when he first entered her. But it was her own face that stood out to her the most. She'd never seen herself like this before, flushed and disheveled with lidded eyes that displayed her lust and desire. Her lips were still parted, formed to the shape of her moan.

The time he gave her to adjust to his thickness was short, as it usually was when he bedded her. He started thrusting then, slowly dragging his cock out of her only to re-enter her with a sharp snap of his hips. He was a wall of muscle, caging her delicate frame against the dresser and he fucked her roughly against it, reveling in her cries of ecstasy. His firm grip in her hair became tighter if anything as he forced her to watch their coupling. "Such a good girl." She watched him say through eyes already glazed by lust. The way he felt, his thick cock stretching her to her limits each time he entered her was already too much. And the way they looked, their faces morphed into ones of unbidden pleasure as he had his way with her. His lips hovered by her ear breathing heavily. His grunts and groans reached her ears and filled her mind with the most erotic sounds she'd ever heard in her life.

She couldn't remember a time when she'd been more aroused and her body made that known by thoroughly drenching his cock in her slickness. A deep groan sounded in her ear when the slapping sounds grew louder. "Fuck you're wet." He groaned and she whined, her walls fluttering madly around him in response to his words. "So fucking wet and tight for me. You take my cock so well Marianne. I swear your cunt was made for me." She cried out at the filthy words he was pouring into her ear, her climax hitting her out of nowhere and igniting each of her nerves like sparks of lightening. She threw her head back against his shoulder with a wail while her body contracted around his thick cock, earning a low growl from the man still pounding into her.

"Open your eyes." He demanded while he continued to piston his cock in and out of her. Eyes that she had no memory of closing, opened while the last waves of her orgasm washed through her. Her skin was flushed, rosy pink from his efforts and covered by a thin layer of sweat. Her deep blue eyes were half lidded and now thoroughly glazed from the pleasure that weaved it's way into every fiber of her being. "Look how fucking beautiful you are. You have no idea how badly I want to _break_ you." He punctuated his words with a sharp yank of her brown hair that had her crying out again.

"Harder, Mercer." She whined and he groaned loudly before he pushed her down on the dresser, til her breasts were pressed flat against it's smooth, polished surface. The hand gripping her hip, still tender from their previous lovemaking tightened painfully while the one in her hair pulled sharply, forcing her to arch her back with a cry. When she looked back in the mirror, the erotic scene in front of her had her eyes rolling back. The new position brought him deeper than before, filling her past her limits each time he penetrated her tight heat with a sharp snap of his hips and she rewarded him with her voice, moaning and gasping from his efforts.

He released her hair, leaving it a tangled mess around her sweaty face for his hand to wrap around her other hip. With his firm grip now having full control of her hips, he pulled her into his every thrust, fucking her roughly into the dresser until he wrung every last bit of pleasure from her body. She cried out, his name on her lips until her voice was raw from her many orgasms and she was left a boneless mess on his dresser. Only then, did he spill himself across her flushed skin and she loved every last bit of it.

A soft moan left her tired body when Mercer reheated the water for the second time. The steaming heat seeping back into her worn muscles and she closed her eyes in bliss. "You know.." he started and though her eyes remained closed, she rolled her head to the right to signal that she was listening. "if you don't say something soon, I'm going to start worrying." He said, lifting her chin with his index finger and she smiled dreamily before her eyes cracked open, her deep blue orbs shining brightly with satisfaction. He brought his lips down against hers in a chaste kiss.

When their lips parted she settled back against his chest, resting against his strong body. The washroom was just as nice as the rest of the house and the tub was huge, easily fitting the two of them inside. A contented sigh left her before she finally spoke. "Thankyou for carrying me." She told him, unable to hide the amusement in her tone. Mercer hadn't been lying about wanting to break her and she wasn't even sure the warmth of the extended bath could bring her muscles back to life. He exhaled a laugh that caused goosebumps on the heated skin of her chest that lay exposed above the water. "Anytime. And I'm glad you like the dress." He said before pressing a kiss into her hair. Their previous conversation came back to her then and she frowned. "You started working on it before Windhelm?" She asked before turning to meet his eyes, unable to hide the suspicion in hers. "Were you really that confident?"

He sighed, perhaps only now just realizing the extent of the damage he'd done. Though his eyes weren't angry or upset when he looked at her, more disappointed. Whether it was at her mistrust or his previous actions she wasn't sure. "I was working on it, yes. But I didn't send it out to be made until the day after we got back. It was only finished just yesterday. Your actions have been nothing short of surprising since the day I met you and I don't pretend to know what's happening inside your head."

"I'm sorry." She said, lowering her eyes to his jaw. "I shouldn't have doubted you. I suppose I just keep expecting you to change your mind again." She told him honestly. She really was trying to trust him. It just made it harder when he gave her things, especially nice things. "I understand." He assured her. "And.. you don't have to apologize. I'd like to think that this is already going better than I expected." The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Keep being honest with me, even if you have doubts. But I'm saying this now," he said, using a hand to lift her jaw so she would meet his eyes. "I will not change my mind again. You're mine." With that said, he brought his lips down against hers in a bruising kiss.


	22. Potions, Ingredients And.. The Dog

Marianne was sitting on the storage crate behind Brynjolf's potion stall in Riften's marketplace staring dejectedly at Mercer's latest gift. A heavy sigh escaped her almost at the same time as the bored dog that sat beside her dangling feet. An almost too-cool breeze whipped her brown hair up behind her and sent a shiver down her spine. The dress Mercer had designed for her usually kept her warm but with it being mid-Frostfall now, winter was well on it's way. It really was a lovely dress though and she had no trouble walking in it thanks to the slits in front of each leg. 

"Were you going to sell a few more potions Mary, or just sit around all day?" Brynjolf asked and she looked up in time to catch the amusement in his eyes. She only rolled hers and sighed again. "You mean with this thing following me?" She asked, punctuating her words with a sharp jab of her index finger at the war dog still sitting beside her, waiting to defend her at a moments notice. It was only the most recent in a series of gifts Mercer had bestowed upon her. Shortly after their return from Windhelm, he'd erected a makeshift workspace beside his own desk in the cistern. It was complete with an alchemy lab and enchanting table and Marianne was desperately trying to think of anything else besides how much he paid for it all. 

Of course she was grateful, because it meant more time spent with Mercer and less time spent in Whitrerun. But it was a lot to take in, especially when the gifts didn't stop coming. The most recent, let out a snort before laying down on it's paws at her feet and she sighed again. Brynjolf laughed, amused at her expense and she shot him a dry look. "It's not even cute." She griped, sparing a glance at the husky adorned in armour. A dog wearing leather armor was ridiculous as far as Marianne was concerned and she could only imagine what the people around her thought. 

"It's not supposed to be cute." He said plainly. "It's supposed to protect you." She rolled her eyes, thoroughly unimpressed by that and he laughed again. "I've never met a woman that didn't like to be given things." He went on and she sighed again, her eyes falling to the cobblestone ground beneath her dangling feet. "It's not that." She told him. "The stuff he gives me, it's too nice. He knows I can't do the same for him, but he doesn't stop. What does he get out of that?" Marianne was far from wealthy. Truthfully, she'd only taken a handful of jobs over the past two months and they were all in the Rift. The seven hundred or so gold pieces she did have to her name was in her trunk back in the cistern at the foot of a bed she hadn't used in months. Even during Mercer's lengthy trip to solitude, he insisted she stay in his house so Nathaniel could see to her needs. 

"He gets you." He said cooly, sparing a glance around the bustling marketplace before bringing his hidden flask to his lips. "He's spent nearly two decades amassing a fortune with no one to spend it on but himself. And if buying you a dog to protect you while he's out of town for a few weeks makes him feel better, you should let him." A deep crease formed between her brow while the gravity of Brynjolf's words sank in. It suddenly struck her that it was more about him and less about her. She was being selfish, she realized and was immediately awash with guilt. "Well now I just feel rotten." She admitted and he fixed her with a smile before a possible patron approached the stall and stole his attention for the moment. 

She spared another glance at the dog by her feet who was now looking back at her with icy blue eyes. They kind of reminded her of Mercer's eyes, except his had more blue in them. Like the sky after it rains. A frown came to her face when she was suddenly struck with just how much she missed him. He'd been gone for two weeks now dealing with a member of the guild that was doing business under the table up in Solitude. He assured her that it wasn't serious but Marianne couldn't shake the feeling that if it was a bad enough situation to warrant an in-person visit from the Guildmaster, it was more serious than he let on. Which only caused her to worry over his extended absence. He was all the way on the other side of the province. If something went wrong and he was hurt.. she just couldn't bear the thought. They'd barely been apart in recent months and now that they were, each day felt longer than normal without him. Even the nights were longer when she lay alone in his bed and unable to sleep without him next to her. She wanted nothing more than for him to come home and be by her side again, easing her fears once more. 

The afternoon dragged on, bringing clouds with it and Marianne was hoping for rain. Hoping for at least some measure of calm while Mercer was away. Though the dog was an excessive gift she didn't need, it was very well behaved and was quiet most of the time. So much so, that she forgot it was even there sometimes. But it never left, always faithfully by her side and ready to defend her. 

Madesi was the first stall owner to pack up for the day. Wujeeta was there, as she usually was when Madesi's day was over and done in the marketplace. Marianne spotted the lovely, amethyst ring on her finger the day before and congratulated both of them on their recent nuptials. Wujeeta then delved into their honeymoon plans that they were planning for the week's end. They were taking a lengthy trip to Blackmarsh to try for babies. Hearing this confused Marianne and she asked why the trip was necessary. Though, she was soon left wishing she hadn't asked because Wujeeta informed her that if they wanted to have children they would have to return to their homeland so she could lay her eggs at one of the ancestral trees. Which, was just about the strangest thing Marianne had ever heard in her life but she wished them a good trip anyways and the best of luck with her eggs. 

When the afternoon finally waned, Brynjolf and Marianne began packing up the unsold wares for the day. Once Mercer had given her the alchemy lab, working with Brynjolf at the potion stall became a sort of full time job. She'd contributed plenty of potions to the stall recently as she extended her knowledge about the various plants native to the Rift. She took to alchemy as well as enchanting. It was calm work, tedious of course and Marianne had earned a callus on her palm from grinding so many ingredients up that first week. But it was fun and it was all made better by the fact that her work station was set up right next to Mercer's desk. 

Once the unsold potions were packed up for the day, Marianne informed Brynjolf that she was off to gather more ingredients outside the walls. Grabbing the small dark blue leather satchel she usually used for ingredient hunting, another gift from Mercer, she secured the strap across her body for comfortable carrying and with her ever vigilant companion trailing behind her, she made her way to the city's gate. It was early evening, with a good two hours of daylight left which was more than enough time to find a couple things. Truthfully, Marianne could probably spend all day outside looking for ingredients. It seemed like she finally found her niche in the magical world. Alchemy, enchanting came naturally enough and with a bit of practice, her summons were damn near flawless. She might never be able to throw a fireball, but she could summon the oblivion out of a flaming wolf. 

Her eyes wandered to the smithy as she passed it and she couldn't help but notice the rather busty Nordic woman that was now a frequent visitor of Halof's. Truthfully, she hadn't spoken to Halof much since her return from Windhelm. Mercer had given the task of purchasing daggers for her to enchant to Nathaniel, so she no longer had to go out of her way to visit the blacksmith. She'd be lying if she said she didn't miss his friendship, since he was so easy to talk to. But she just couldn't bring herself to go over there. It struck her, shortly after her return from Eastmarch that he didn't even know her real name and she was sure he wouldn't have nice things to say about her involvement with the guild. Not to mention the fact that he wanted to kiss her, which was obviously not going to happen since she was exclusively with Mercer. So, at a loss of what else to do, she avoided him. Though, judging by the look on his face whenever the red-haired woman was around, it was working out just fine for everyone. 

Once she made it outside of the city's gate, she decided to take a right and make her way into the forest. One perk about having a trained war dog following you everywhere, is that it does grant a bit of peace of mind when you're by yourself. Still, she wasn't foolish enough to venture too far into the forest. She always kept some portion of Riften's tall defensive walls visible so she wouldn't get lost. Though, she was fairly sure the dog could lead her back if she asked it too. It definitely seemed smart enough. 

Being that it was now Frostfall, the forest floor was nearly covered by dead leaves. All of them, varying shades of gold. The sight was just as beautiful as Marianne expected it would be and she couldn't imagine a prettier sight existed in all of Skyrim. The trees were mostly bare now, only a few golden leaves clung to their branches. Another month or so and everything would be covered by snow.

When an overgrowth of vegetation presented itself, she retrieved her knife from it's sheathe on her dress' belt. She started with mushrooms, which she found plenty of. Blisterwort, mora tapinella, white cap and imp stool all sat in the bottom of her satchel when she was done. Knowing that winter was on it's way, she spent the next half hour or so gathering as many flowers as she could see. When she was finished with that, a good twenty or so red, blue and purple mountain flowers were stuffed into her satchel beside the fungi there. Migrating closer to the wall she continued her search, finding two thick pieces of canis root wedged under a small rock formation. 

With the sun now descending, a few torchbugs came out of hiding and Marianne scooped up a few of those and used her knife to sever their tiny insect heads before adding them to her satchel. Proud of her work and with her bag now stuffed to the brim with ingredients, she turned to leave when the dog at her feet suddenly let out a low growl that froze her in her tracks. She'd never heard the thing growl before and she immediately knew she wasn't fond of the sound. 

A sharp, snapping sound echoed somewhere behind her and though she was damn near terrified, she spun around, her deep blue eyes wide with fear as she searched for the threat. One of her hands gripped her knife in a vice grip while her eyes swept across the quickly darkening forest. Sparing a glance at the dog at her feet, she could see it's head was lowered and it was staring straight forward his canine eyes trained on something she couldn't see. Her pulse was racing through her veins as she waited for whatever was coming. 

A scurrying noise sounded in the leaves and Marianne gasped before a squirrel ran across the ground a good twenty or so paces away. Once her mind registered that the threat was nothing more than a tiny rodent, she exhaled deeply in relief before her free hand landed on her chest. Her heart still pounded madly against her ribcage and she took deep breaths to calm down. "Are you serious?" She asked the dog at her feet even though it was still staring in the direction of the squirrel. "War dog my left foot." She griped before turning on her heel and stalking back to the city gates. 

On her way back into the city, a wave of exhaustion overcame her from the fading adrenaline. The memory of what just happened was still fresh in her mind and she rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it. The damned thing would make a better hunting dog than it would a war dog as far as Marianne was concerned. Though she was now tired and dirty from her scavenging trip and in desperate need of a bath, she wanted to drop her ingredients off in the cistern. She took the long way, as she usually did since she had a four legged companion that couldn't climb ladders. The underground bar was as busy as it always was, bustling with drunken patrons enjoying cheap drinks and lively music. It was kind of a shame that the Ragged Flagon bar was underground, she was sure it would do even better above ground. The place just had a certain charm about it. 

She waved to Delvin and Sapphire as she passed their table and headed through the door to the cistern. The dog trailed behind her, his nails audible against the slightly damp cobblestone ground beneath them. She pulled the satchel strap over her head and made her way over to her work station. She looked up as she approached Brynjolf's desk and though she locked eyes with him first, her attention was immediately drawn to the man beside him and she stopped dead in her tracks. A wide smile lit her face at the sight of him. "Mercer!" She exclaimed, all too happy to be reunited with him again. 

Though, it seemed he did not mirror the sentiment because his face was twisted into a look of fury. "Where the fuck have you been?!" He demanded and Marianne was immediately alarmed by his sudden hostility toward her. So much so that she took a step back from him. A look of confusion dawned on her face. "Outside." She answered him like it was obvious. "Looking for ingredients." She held up the now stuffed satchel as proof of her adventure. He scoffed. "Mercer." Brynjolf warned, earning a glare from the Breton. A part of her mind registered just how tired he looked, like he hadn't slept properly in days. He was still in his travelling clothes and she wondered when he returned. Surely if he'd been back before she went outside the walls he would have said something, right?

"I don't understand." She admitted and Mercer turned his heated gaze back on her. It was startling. Mercer was damn near terrifying when he was pissed. But she knew she had done nothing wrong to warrant such anger toward herself. "What part do you not understand Marianne? The part where you traipse off and no one knows where you are? You really think it's a good idea to be fucking around in the forest when it's dark out? You could have DIED!" 

Her mouth fell open and an exasperated exhale was forced from her lungs at the ridiculous situation she was currently in. She hadn't seen then man in two weeks and he comes home to what, yell at her? "Are you insane?" She asked him seriously, her own anger rising to the challenge. This wasn't Mercer, at least not the Mercer she knew. "I told Brynjolf where I was going, thank you very much. And since when do I need your permission for anything? I'll go where I damn well please!" With that said, she threw the leather satchel at his feet and turned sharply on her heels before stomping back toward the door. She didn't look but she hoped it hit him. He was lucky she didn't slap him right then and there, the bastard. He definitely deserved it. 

She paused at the doorway with her hand still gripping the handle and turned back to face him. "And by the way.. I would have been back sooner. But the stupid dog you got me wanted to say hi to the squirrels. So screw you Mercer!" She yelled before slamming the door to the cistern and stomping down the hallway to the bar. No one said anything but she could feel the curious eyes on her as she made her way to the bars entrance, the dog trailing behind her all the way. As much as she wanted to blame the dog, and she had, it wasn't really it's fault. It was just doing it's job. A little too well, honestly.

No, this was purely Mercer's fault and she couldn't figure out where he got off speaking to her like that. She thought of nothing but him for the past two weeks, missing him had damn near killed her and he comes back with this? The thought of what just transpired between them had tears in her eyes as she made her way back to his house. 

The first thing she did when she was greeted by the warmth of the fireplace-heated manor was request a hot bath from Nathaniel. Once the tub was filled, he retired to his quarters for the night and she entered the washroom. She soaked, for much longer than was necessary. Long after her fingers and toes had pruned, she was still in the water. Her irritation was still at it's height with Mercer. She just couldn't wrap her mind around why he was so aggressive with her. Everything was fine before he left for Solitude. Perfect even. Marianne couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd been close to as happy as Mercer made her. Extravagant gifts aside, Mercer was better to her than she could have ever imagined. Until this day of course. 

Freshly bathed and still too irritated to sleep, she wrapped her soft silk robe around herself before snugly tying the belt at her waist. She made her way down the upstairs hallway to the office that sat adjacent to the bedroom. The desk was huge and took up a good portion of the room on it's own. But it was the bookshelves she was most interested in. Plush rugs cushioned her bare feet while she browsed the different titles. Taking her time til one caught her interest. She'd read more than a few books in Mercer's absence. Each of them was still piled on his desk. She kept wanting to put them away but forgot every time, so the pile continued to grow. 

Her eyes landed on 'The Cake And The Diamond' and she pulled it off the shelf. The toes of one of her feet tapped against the rug behind her while she thumbed through the first few pages. She quickly decided that it looked interesting enough and settled into the large chair in front of the desk. The chair was heavily cushioned, instantly offering comfort to her tired body and she only made it through the first few chapters before she fell asleep.


	23. Secrets Or Lies?

"..so screw you Mercer!" 

No sooner had the door to the underground bar slammed shut did his hand wrap around the closest thing on his desk before he threw it at the wall. The glass bottle of ale shattered into dozens of pieces when it collided with the cobblestone wall of the underground cistern. Amber colored shards bounced off the ground, scattering wildly around the makeshift office area and both of his hands found his hair out of frustration while he took deep breaths to control his blazing anger. "Taking it out on her wont do you any favors-"

"I know that!" He yelled before turning to face his Nordic companion who was all too unfazed by his outburst. Decades of putting up with each other was to blame for that, he was sure. "Fuck." He exhaled. "What am I supposed to do, Brynjolf?" He asked the other man seriously, placing his palms flat against the desk and hanging his head. His shoulder-length brown tresses fell forward, concealing the look of pain on his face. "I can't do this. Not again." He said with a shake of his head. The thought of Marianne, dying in his arms like Evelyn had haunted him the entire way back from Solitude. He couldn't lose another woman he loved. It would kill him. "I can't lose her." 

A large hand was placed on his shoulder but he made no move to meet the Nord's eyes. "You can't lose your head and you definitely can't jump to conclusions. You don't even know if Karliah knows about Mary." His hands formed tight fists against the desk at the sound of her name. He hated that Dunmer bitch, with every fiber of his being and wanted nothing more than to bathe in her blood. Wanted her to know true pain. But he doubted she felt anything, the soulless monster that she is. She took everything from him and the very second he's lucky enough to find love again she rears her vile face again. A deep breath invaded his lungs. Followed by another and another. A full minute passed before he'd collected himself enough to speak. "You're right." He told the Nord. "But if she doesn't know yet, she will soon. Galum-Ei can't be the only one she turned against us. If she got to one of our contacts in Windhelm.." He shook his head again at the memory of their time in Eastmarch. He'd been a fool to be seen with her publicly, it only put her at risk. And she was so delicate..

"Why come back now? She has to want something.." Brynjolf said and the Breton scoffed. "Probably ran out of coin. I wouldn't be surprised if she came back for the other eye. Or to kill me. Or to kill all of us, the vile bitch." One of his hands shot out to grab the lone bottle of ale still on his desk and he pulled the cork off, tossing it onto the large ledger on his desk before bringing the bottle to his lips. "Or all three. I wouldn't be surprised by any of it. But I know, if she finds out about Marianne, she wont hesitate." 

"That won't happen. We'll take her off jobs for a while. She can work the stall with me while we deal with Karliah." The hand on Mercer's shoulder tightened before he spoke again. "She'll be fine, Mercer."

He prayed to every god that Brynjolf's words would prove true while the two men went to work. They drew up letters to their most prominent contacts, hoping to catch any insight into Karliah's whereabouts or intentions. By the time they were finished, it was well into the night and Mercer was eager to see Marianne again. He'd been so upset to hear that she was outside by herself that when he finally laid eyes on her, he was overwhelmed by emotion. He took his frustrations out on her and he knew he was wrong for that. 

It didn't take long to make it back home by way of the underground tunnel from the cistern. When he was greeted by the warmth of the hearth, his feet immediately carried him up the stairs. He pulled his tunic over his head at the top of the stairs and noticed the faint candle light pouring into the hallway from the office. He approached the door, tossing his tunic behind him into the darkened bedroom before peeking inside the office. The sight he was met with nearly took his breath away. Marianne was sound asleep in the large, mahogany desk chair. Her long brown hair was a mess around her from her restless sleep but her face was so relaxed, so peaceful. They'd been together for months now. Yet, every time he looked at her, he was still just as taken aback by her beauty as that very first day in the cistern. Oh, gods he loved her. Loved her so much that it hurt. 

He couldn't pinpoint an exact moment when it happened. He only knew that he was and had been in love with her for a while now. And every time she smiled at him it only made him love her more. She was so precious. Worth more to him than all the septims and flawless jewels in the world. A wave of guilt washed over him when he remembered how poorly he treated her and his feet were moving toward her before he even realized it. He took the book she'd been reading out of her small hands and smirked at the title before placing it on the desk beside the others she'd apparently read in his lengthy absence. She was a messy thing, always leaving things out of their proper place. Her lab in the cistern was a gods damned nightmare and it always amazed him that she knew exactly where everything was. Though, somehow, it didn't bother him in the least. A mess meant people were living and gods, he loved having her around. He would happily put up with her messes for the rest of his life.

She was so small, easily carried from one room to the next and she barely stirred when he did. Only a soft sigh escaped her from the sudden movement. And when he laid her down on those silk sheets, it was a sight so beautiful it hurt to see. Only seconds passed between him ridding himself of his remaining clothes and joining her. He pulled her in close, needing to be close to her now more than ever and she naturally clung to him, so accustomed to sleeping by his side. Another sigh, this time from the warmth of his skin penetrating the thin silk robe she wore. She was so soft, so delicate wrapped in his arms. With the threat of Karliah's return now looming, he knew he wouldn't sleep. But a little more missed sleep was nothing compared to being apart from her for any length of time and he would gladly stay awake every night if it meant she would be protected from harm. With a kiss to her temple he whispered a promise. He would keep her safe. 

Marianne was resting her arms on the open window, drinking in the morning air. It was crisp, even more so with the thin silk robe still wrapped around her small frame. But the sky was littered with heavy clouds and she could smell the rain on the wind. Oh, how she loved the rain. That peaceful calm it always seemed to bring. Which was exactly what she needed since she was still blazingly mad at Mercer for his gods awful treatment of her. The memory of it was still fresh, dancing in her mind and with a heavy sigh, she turned from the window to start the task of dressing. 

The closet was nearly half hers now, thanks to all of Mercer's gifts. After pulling on a pair of dark blue leather pants, she selected a nice, dark purple tunic remembering that Mercer had been vocal about liking that color on her. When she finished dressing, she pulled the top of her brown hair back and secured it with pins. She knew she would be doing a bit of alchemy first thing and couldn't have her hair getting in the way. One of her very first experiments with the lab Mercer had gifted her had learned her that lesson when the mixture she concocted set off a miniature explosion, effectively burning a few inches off her waist length hair in the front. The damage was minimal, only a few strands were sacrificed. The unfortunate part was that both Mercer and Brynjolf had bore witness and teased her for the remainder of the day. 

When she left the house, it was with a cloak wrapped snugly around her. The wind had picked up, blowing a few stray leaves across her path as she made her way through the streets with her faithful dog right on her heels. Mercer was gone when she woke but she knew he had come home at some point. She had no memory of migrating to the bedroom and was sure she fell asleep in the office. She honestly didn't know what upset her more, the fact that he yelled at her or the fact that he came home and did not apologize for it. 

It didn't take long for her to reach the cistern and she was instantly more irritated at the sight of Mercer's clean clothes. Reminding her once more that he'd come home and not apologized for his behavior. He looked up upon her approach but she kept her eyes forward as she and her trusty four legged companion made their way over to her makeshift laboratory. It really was a nice set up. She even had her own bookshelf for her books, ingredients and potions. She approached the podium and made sure that her alchemy book was still open on the same page she'd left it before her eyes swept the space searching for the satchel she threw at Mercer the night before. She noticed it sitting on the small table beside the alchemy station and immediately went to work hanging up the flowers to dry. She had two baskets set up for drying herbs that hung from sturdy hooks on the wall above the table. 

In the midst of her work she felt, rather than heard Mercer's approach. A movement in the corner of her vision caught her attention as his hand picked up one of the flowers and hung it upside down from the basket next to the one she was working on. A few moments of silence passed while they worked to hang up the flowers til an angry exhale forced it's way out of her lungs. "What do you want?" She asked rudely, making it absolutely clear that she was still pissed off at him and not at all concerned with who was around them listening. "To talk, Marianne." He said and though she let out an irritated huff, she did not meet his eyes. "Marianne.."

"Talk then." She said, pulling the few previously dried flowers off the basket before she brought them to her mortar and pestle that sat further down the table. She placed the dried blossoms inside the bowl before beginning to grind them with the stone pestle she held firmly in her hand. He let out a heavy sigh, perhaps realizing the extent of her anger with him. "Would you look at me first?" He asked and she glared at the half crushed flowers before bringing her pestle down into the mortar a little harsher than was necessary. The sound of the stones colliding echoed around the otherwise quiet cistern. "I'd rather slap you." She admitted.

"Then slap me, Marianne. If that's what it's going to take for you to look at me, do it!" Her hands came to a stop at his words. He was yelling again but this time, instead of angering her further it sent a wave of guilt through her and she suddenly felt like she was being unreasonable. A deep crease formed in her brow and her hands left the equipment to cross against her chest. She turned to face him with a frown firmly in place on her face. His expression mirrored hers and she could see regret swimming in his light blue eyes. Eyes that she spent so much time missing. His expression softened further under her stare. "You're even more beautiful when you're pissed off at me." He said. Her lips parted in surprise at his sudden compliment and he smiled at her reaction. 

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling which only seemed to amuse him further. "I'm still mad at you." She told him firmly and his smile grew wider before he stepped closer, til she was forced to crane her neck to look at him and his torso was pressed against her crossed arms. The sudden closeness after weeks apart was making her insides quiver but in the best of ways. Oh, she missed him so much. One of his hands found her cheek and she practically melted at his touch. Her eyes fluttered and he took the opportunity to lower his lips to hers. That was the exact moment the last remaining bits of her anger fell away and her hands wound around the back of his neck as she arched into his kiss. His hands moved to her back, holding her tightly against him. His kiss was much tender than she'd been expecting but not at all unpleasant. His mouth moved slowly against hers as if he were telling her just how much he missed her through their kiss alone. 

When their lips finally parted she was flushed, her lips swollen from his efforts. And though she missed him, she still needed an explanation for his poor treatment of her. "You yelled at me." She reminded him and though he made no move to release her from his arms, he let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry." He admitted, one of his hands returning to stroke her cheek with it's thumb. It was quiet for a moment while his eyes roamed her face. What he was searching for, she honestly wasn't sure. "Well, go on.." She encouraged and he cracked a smile before it quickly turned into a frown. "One of our contacts in Solitude was killed. I've been a little on edge since then. When I came back and you weren't here.. I overreacted. I didn't mean to take it out on you." 

Her face fell at the news and she was immediately concerned for him. "You didn't get hurt, did you?" She asked him and he gave her a look she couldn't quite decipher before he answered her. "Of course not." He told her cooly but she was far from convinced. "But I would ask that you refrain from taking any jobs for a while." 

A deep crease planted itself in her brow from the strangeness of his request. "Why? What's going on-"

"It's not that." He quickly assured her and fixed her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I was gone for two very long weeks Marianne. We have some proper catching up to do." She couldn't stop the smile that crossed her face at his words. His eyes weren't the only thing that she missed and the look he was giving her was definitely reminding her of that. He brought his lips down against hers once more, moving just as tenderly as the first time before he reluctantly returned to the pile of documents waiting for him at his desk. He had a lot of catching up to do with keeping up with the books and responding to letters from the guild's contacts. 

Marianne was having so much fun concocting her potions and restocking her ingredients that the day slipped away from her. Sometime in the afternoon she happily strolled over to Brynjolf's desk with her latest creation. "Look what I made!" She exclaimed from beside him when he looked over upon her approach. She was holding a small purple vial out for him, about the size of her pinky finger with three others clutched in her other hand. He took the vial in his almost comically large hands and held it up to examine it. He opened the bottle and brought it to his nose. "Nightshade?" He asked with a raised brow and she smiled.

"It's a beauty potion." She said proudly. "A drop in each eye will cause them to dilate but the blisterwort will protect the eyes from suffering any actual damage." A look of surprise crossed his face, closely followed by a devilish grin. "How many can you make?" She giggled at his sudden enthusiasm and placed the other three on his desk. "I have enough ingredients and bottles to make about six more." She informed him and his smile grew wider. "You lass, are going to be a very rich woman if you keep this up." She beamed at him before turning her attention to the man sitting at the other desk a few feet away. He was watching her conversation with Brynjolf with a smile on his face. 

She quickly crossed the small space that separated them and leaned down to press a kiss to her lover's lips. A deep groan left him before he grabbed her waist in a vice grip and pulled her into his lap. She laughed again, her hands landing on his shoulders, quickly finding their way behind his neck. One of her hands toyed with the slightly curled ends of his hair. Marianne thought he had beautiful hair and she loved running her fingers through the silky tresses whenever she could. His eyes met hers for a moment, those light blue eyes holding hers hostage in a piercing gaze and a light blush came to her face when she realized that only a few thin layers of clothing were keeping them apart. He caught the change in her demeanor and shot her a playful smirk. "Did you test out that potion on yourself, or was there something else on your mind?"

Her blush deepened, thoroughly saturating her fair skin in a rosy pink before she answered. "Something else." She told him honestly and his smirk grew wider til it became a genuine smile. He leaned forward, til his lips brushed against her ear, his breathy exhale rolling down her neck and eliciting a soft moan. "Is that so?" His voice, low in her ear. Oh gods she loved that voice. It was rough and smooth and oh, the things it did to her insides. It was all made better when a low groan sounded in her ear. His hands came down on her hips to still them before she even registered they were moving. Small hands now held fistfuls of his tunic in a vice grip. "Perhaps.. you could take a break?" She asked and he smiled widely.

"Actually, I've got a better idea." He told her while the fingers of one of his hands trailed slowly down her spine in a way that was all too distracting. "Why don't you go home, take a nice long bath and pick out a bottle of wine? I'll wrap up what I'm doing here and we'll have the full night." Her lips parted, a wide smile stretching her face at his words. Oh, she like hs idea much better, she'd have him all to herself. "Alright." she answered, already buzzing with excitement for the night ahead of them. Her lips found his once more in a chaste kiss before she made her way out of the cistern, all too excited for the night ahead of them.


End file.
